Black Saturday: 7th of February, 2009

Issue SixIssue Six PoetryPoetry

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By Wendy J. Dunn

 

When we arrived

Another car was there

 

Strangers at the Lookout

We gathered together

And gazed at the hills

 

The burning, burning hills.

 

The smoke cloud over Kinglake

Sealed its fate,

I knew

 

After the first hellos

No one spoke again

Disaster does that

Words offer no comfort

The calamity before us

Stilled us in silence.

 

When we left the lookout

I could feel my sister’s grief

Her edginess to be elsewhere

Fighting for the home

We once knew

And still loved.

 

In that moment,

I realized

I had never stopped thinking

of Kinglake as home

Life calls me many things

But coming away from

The burning hills of my youth

I knew I was

And always would be

a Kinglaker.