The country is dry. The country is burning.
Seeing and hearing of places I have loved broken, it breaks my heart. But I’m just a bystander. I have not lost. I am not broke.
Even heroes cannot repel the brutishness of nature, more vociferous than it has been in the past. While villains busy themselves hiding in their bubbles, lauding an achievement of persecution.
We have always been a sunburnt country,
But SPF 50 is no longer enough.
Washpool National Park, Northern NSW
With a grandeur it’s proclaimed: the Gondwana Rainforests of Australia.
Pockets of primordial soup
Stirred by a clammy breeze.
Creeping with the shadows
Of ferns and fronds and leaves.
A bird calls unseen, a snake disappears fast,
Hiding from the possibility of a creature from the past.
An ancient closet of time lingering on today,
Gnawed at by the hunger of axe and car and flame.
With solemnity some lament, these forests missing rain,
Gondwanaland is breaking up, vanishing once again.
Ebor Falls, New England Tablelands NSW
Long dried grasses shield paper daisies,
Sprightly white gums yield gangs of Galahs.
Rumbling unseen, a torrent of water
Tumbles at speed, seeping in earth.
Grasses charred grey smoulder in ashes,
Blackened gum branches crash to the ground.
Trundling unseen, a teardrop of water,
Trickles in need, weeping at dearth.
Murramarang National Park, South Coast NSW
This was my happy place.
Verdant and green,
Burnt to a crisp,
Like forgotten toast.
This hurts the most.
- Me, December 2016
- Grafton Daily Examiner, November 2019
- Me, March 2018
- Kyle Donoghue, The Bellingen Shire Courier-Sun, November 2019
- Me, June 2016
- NSW RFS Milton Brigade, ABC News, December 2019