Thursday, September 17, 2015

WATER.

Long ago now,
The days of our want for water.
Cracked earth parched begging wet mercy,
Clouds passing offering burlesque.

Days travelled fearing worst outcome,
Sharp at both ends of the stick.
Wishing for thunders clap,
Suspense filled fear takes hold.

Preservation timed showers,
Gardens left dying for hose.
River without liquid to waste,
City thirsty for dam quenching future.

Planning with desperate haste,
Fearing the worst brought us there.
Grey sky legion with no time to waste,
Saviour came rushing down drains.

More of the same brings gradual change,
Giving the promise of green.
Tables turn sweetly as surely they do,
Count all the years as they pass.

Fated promise of things to come,
Monsoon brings reverse of the tide.
Heaven Bursting with tears unrelenting,
Torrential clouds inundate us to hell.

Snakelike waterway swollen with drink,
Heaves under pressure then breaks.
Gushing elements and people on flight,
Scurry to save and engulf.

Eerie silence interrupted by car alarms,
Slowly the takeover begins its grip.
Desolate wastelands of waterlogged hope,
Nature claims back what we took.

Failed recognition of where we all stand,
Teach us the lessons we're tought.
Force of distruction seeks our revenge,
And warriors of mud lend their hands.

Dust settles on sun rise and sun set,
Calm returns and hope surrounds.

Mixed blessing is the gift we call water.



Copyright (c) Robyn Whittaker. 2011.

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