My poetry is fucked up

Stephen Chinnock

17 January 2020

My poetry is fucked up
So is my mind
By all of these fires
Destroying our land
Our hopes and dreams
The unique wildlife
Icons of our land
So many of us have lost
All that we treasured for so long
Gone in a flash of fire
Left with an emptiness
One can’t express
A reality never faced before
Unable to accept what
We have no more
So what can I write
For my dear friends
Neighbours and those nearby
In a new reality
Resembling a war zone
With all reduced to ashes
How to give you some hope
Of recovery and future
I try to say to myself
Oh how I loved what I had then
So many wonderful moments
Days of bliss
In that place I shared
With family and friends
The memories never end
If you have the courage
To rebuild in that desolate place
I admire your determination
Resilience and faith
I’ll add my support
To that process so long
Difficult and complex
I personally cannot face
A reconstructed facsimile
Of what was home to me
My family and friends
Who made it so wonderful
A place to be
I’ll move on
There will be another place
Where family and friends
Will gather and celebrate
The best moments of life
Especially those little ones
Who loved to come to Tio’s house
And eat up a storm
That will be the new norm!