Page 28 - Demo

After an emergency, you feel so grateful. For the firefighters who fought night and day to save hills and communities just up the road; for our neighbors, Bruce and Robyn, and Mark and Kelli, who fought flames and embers deep into the night. I’m awed by them, and grateful for the kindness of Kay in St. Helena, and John and Teri in Bolinas, who offered the serenity of their houses during the evacuation and smoky aftermath. I’m especially grateful for the brilliance of John Bull’s book designs that can make a simple page sing. He lives and works in Sydney, Australia, and is no stranger to the horror of bushfires. When his wife, Yolande, read these poems, as John was starting work on the book design, she sent me a Haiku poem she’d written. The last stanza, acknowledging that the fires are not yet done with us, seems a fitting way to end this little book.
s
Response to Bonnie’s Poems. Bushfire threat etched on our minds.
Your words: Feel pain, loss, love, memories, where to, why? Fears re-awoken.
Know the feeling. Dread.
Pack what? Papers, bills to pay? Panic. How to choose?
Pack: Good-luck statue.
Place in big bag near front door. What else? Can’t think straight.
That’s all I need now.
The house can burn. Do I care? Watch TV. Can’t watch.
Search around house. Sad. Grab a frame, a book, bag fills. Decide: Take or not?
What is important?
Not much. Life, love, memories. So much stuff. Don’t need.
Place near door: Car keys,
bag, water, cats’ cage. Oh, cats! Check on old neighbour.
Ring family, friends.
All trapped, in high alert. Scared. Firefighters brave, tired.
Fires glow in distance.
Red sunsets stunning, so bad. Smoke chokes. Nose, throat raw.
Fire threat over now. Bag ever-ready at door. Just in case. Fire etched.
Y.B.
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