YASI TRIED
He stares, eyes red and bloodshot – at the devastation
there.
Gold sand once on the beaches now lays thickly
everywhere.
Surf pounding - somewhat chastened, on the shoreline
starts to foam
as he in disbelief views tangled wreckage of his home.
One final crack, sharp as a stockwhip, echoes in the
air
a sheet of iron roofing sags and falls in grey despair.
No birds are singing, no kids laughing, no one’s on the
beach.
Just miles of ruination. Harsh lessons does Mother teach.
He ventures forth – a shattered man, cautiously picks
his way,
yet raises tear filled eyes to heaven, thanks God for the
day.
His life spared his hearts still beating, tears like
rivers flow.
He lived through Yasi’s terror, he’ll replant where
nothing grows.
This is his land, his country, he will stay, and his
home is here.
What doesn’t weaken just makes stronger, he’s survived
his fear;
though possessions he
had cherished and collected over years
are reduced to salt soaked rubble , there is no time
now for tears.
Shell shocked, bereft and grieving through the storms
debris he picks,
finds a photo of his Mother, a child’s
Teddy. Broken sticks
of what was a massive gum tree on the footpath of the
street
though it now lies nonchalant in his bathtub with
clawed feet.
His toilet stands in solitude to the whole world
exposed
with water views of rolling surf , an asset once
supposed.
And fluttering on the wind, seemingly not damaged at
all
a roll of toilet paper,
mounted on the shattered wall.
People slowly emerge, shell shocked survivors. Disbelief
plainly written on their faces, many tears but great
relief.
Someone cracks open a carton, not ice cold but it’ll
do.
There’s no power to boil the billy and the fresh waters
gone to.
Rueful laughter, hugs and kisses, solidarity is there.
These are tough Queenslanders; gutsy, they won’t
give in to despair.
Up above the sky is blue; a flock of lorikeets is
spied.
It gives them hope . They’re down not out – though God
knows Yasi tried.
Maureen Clifford © 02/11
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