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Broken People, Broken Land

By Ada Sage

A sky the colour of ruby,

Filling me with dread,

Sickening, sinister beauty,

Inescapable wall of red.

Raking, cutting, dragging,

Embers and ash appear.

A steady, monotonous rhythm,

An action fuelled by fear.

Desperately driving back and forth,

Emptying water out.

From a container on the ute,

Into tanks dry from drought.

What part of your life do you pack in boxes,

And what do you leave behind?

And does it really matter, when everything is gone?

Will the memories live in your mind?

Animals loaded into cars,

Terror clear in their eyes.

Blind to where they're going,

Or whether they'll survive.

The car engulfed in embers,

Fire over the road.

We don’t know if we’ll get out,

Or where we’d even go.

Smoke and heat assault us,

Tears drop from my eyes.

A sickening feeling of suffocation,

As flames reach for the skies.

A night spent in burning darkness,

As the village around us falls,

A high pitched whistle of devastation,

Homes scream in the fires jaws.

Coming out to silence,

We don’t recognise the place.

Tired, sad heads in hands,

My own an ash and tear streaked face.

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