I didn’t hear it coming
I didn’t see the glow
I was in a Hotel room far away
desperate for news from home

‘Kurrajong Cres! The Quarterdeck! A war zone!’
When the news appeared
‘Is that my house? Or is that my house?
The pictures were so unclear
Then I saw it, not so sure at first
But when I saw the gas bottle
It sadly confirmed the worst.

On my arrival I wasn’t prepared
For what I saw
Nothing looking familiar
I only saw trauma,
I can’t explain it at all.

For whatever reason
I was never allowed to grieve
Not just on my burnt down house
But for those who were told it was too late to leave

What would I have done?
Would I fight or flight?
It’s eating me up like cancer
But truth be told
I never want to know the answer

‘The ones who stayed have the Fire in their eyes’
So I was told
It will always be with them
Until they grow old

So now I have been tasked to let our stories be heard
A film, a document for the history book
It will be an emotional tale
Led by the master, Mr Stephen Chinnock

From behind the camera
I pretend not to shed a tear
How did you all survive?
How are you still here?

Producing such a story
has made me very nervous
Thanks to Scott, Kris, Melissa and more
You have given me support and purpose

We shouldn’t compare our loss
Our grief is all the same
Yes, what happened to us was tragic
Despite our anger, there is no one blame

So when I travel south
I feel I need to write a poem
The fire has given me friends for life
Far more than when I had a home

So I’ve decided to Rebuild
in the future rather than the present
And It’s with great pride when I say
I’ll live at 21 Kurrajong Cresent