Australiana
'Testing times for the Australians'
You left on my page today
Well I shall let you know
That's what Australia is all about.
Routine should I say,
And no I'm not bragging.
The work of a day
Cyclone, bushfire
Floods, droughts,
Dust storms
Even earthquakes
We've got them all.
The forces of apocalypse
At work continuously
Shaping our psyche
As well as the land
The Australians are a rough lot,
For sure, so is the continent.
One is never far from a catastrophe
Whether be it in
Western Australia, Queensland
Victoria, Tasmania, ACT
South Australia, Northern Territory
Now New South Wales
Always on the qui vive
And that is a certainty.
The renown country
Of Milk and honey
That's another story.
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
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David and Goliath
Nineteen small squads
Of volunteer fire brigades
Are the first line of defence
To fight on the eighty kilometre
Along the highway
It is David versus Goliath
Once again.
You know men and women
Covered in yellow woollen overalls
For all protection are risking their life
Fighting step by step
In uneven terrain
Against a roaring wall of fire
Carried by turbulent winds.
They are fighting in deep gullies
Separated by steep ridges
Where the wind speeds up the slope.
It is a losing battle
That many over the years
Have paid dearly
With their lives.
But they don't give up
Stubbornly they built fire breaks
In the middle of the fire storm.
They look for natural chasm
Using the wind itself as an ally
To fight the fire itself
Wherever possible.
They are using their brain
Against the monster's brawn.
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
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Night and day
When the grey yellowish smog
Fills the valleys and gullies downwards
When the air reeks of eucalyptus smoke
That it becomes barely breathable
When the invisible helicopters whirs
Day in and out around the place
Filling and emptying
Bucket load after bucket load
In an unending aerial dance
To douse the frontline
When the highway is closed
To normal traffic
When even the trains have stopped
Then you know that fire
Is on your door step
You are at its mercy
The monster has been unleashed.
You are anxiously waiting
For the next quarterly hourly weather forecast
Announcing a possible change coming
Or bracing yourself
Against any worsening conditions.
Then night falls unannounced
Amidst all this surrounding greyness
It gets worse as view is obliterated
The night will be long
Not trusting to get to sleep
In case of evacuation
As you might not get
More than a few minutes warning.
Morning emerges still grey
The conditions have worsened
The awaiting stretches
Nerves to their limits
Children and pets are kept inside
The choppers are whizzing around.
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
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Seasonal hell
A few years ago,
My daughter stated categorically
That the season she hated most
Was summer which is rather rare
For an Australian kid.
When I raised a quizzical eyebrow
As a question she answered
That the reason why that was
Was very simple, it was mainly
The season of fires.
For her the Christmas holidays
Were smudged by the ever present threat
Of rampant fires.
It was the season when we stopped
Walking and trekking
Found ourselves to be
Always on the qui vive.
True that year we went
Through six fires lighted
By an insane firebug
Within three months.
Nowadays she would say
That spring and summer
Are the seasons
She hates the most
For we are only mid spring
And already twice
The region has been touched.
Lucette C. Bailliet ©
