In the shed all the stools melted or burnt
Destroyed vines, poles and wires all melted
The Bushfire 7-2-2009
Burnt, scorched, black, ash, dead.
The countryside is no more
Only an acute sadness
Uninspiring, dismal landscape
Painful, mournful to be amongst
The trees, limbless, black sticks
The shed, the machines, tools all melted
Into a binding, black, blob.
Many kangaroos that sought refuge, to no avail
Singed, sickening, bloated, pungent, yet no flies
In the hard, dry, clay, earth
We buried them, with a tiny spade
Birds with beautiful colored feathers, lifeless
Dropped from the sky- we buried them.
Young kangaroos, hurt, confused, disorientated,
Lost from the herd, that no longer existed,
Looked to us with pleading eyes, to explain,
We could not, we too had much pain,
We shared our water and scoured for a green blade
To no avail, fodder from the city we ferried next day.
My loved vineyard, vines that carried the hope,
From across the sea from many generation,
Crafted and planted and replanted with love
Destroyed, melted, burnt and devastated.
We toiled for weeks watering, and removed
The melted netting, pipes and soot, to salvage,
Heart breaking, cleaning, clearing and pulling,
The dead burnt leaves, for little reward
Freighting precious water from the city
To bring life back into the scorched landscape,
Exhausted, futile, emotions of anger - tears.
To persevere, not to give up- one hears
Nature will rebound as it always has.
We mortals living in a glimpse of eternity
An insignificant grain of dust, want
For the duration of our brief encounter with life
That everything should remain the same.
The landscape will regenerate afresh
Time will heal all, new green foliage
The kangaroos will build a new herd.
Some vines will spring new shoots
The hard work to salvage and persevere
I found had its own reward!
The ability to give us hope.