By Tony DeLorger © 2011
Amid one of the most destructive earthquakes that New Zealand has ever experienced, Christchurch and surrounding areas has become a focus of human potential. Many every day people have exhibited extraordinary acts of bravery as they attempt to rescue the many people still trapped in fallen buildings.
Rescue teams from all over the world have given support to this massive task, with two hundred people still unaccounted for. Stories of miraculous escapes and rescues are beginning to surface and as each day goes by the rescue effort is even more concentrated.
At its end more than one hundred people will have lost their lives and the damage to buildings, homes and infrastructure is estimated to be worth about 14 billion dollars. This disaster will take a long time to overcome, a city that had just got over a 7.3 quake September of last year. This quake, although of less intensity has created much more damage because of its epicentre being only ten kilometres from the city centre and only five kilometres below ground.
New Zealand right now needs our prayers and all the families that have lost loved ones, their homes, their lives turned upside-down, we must think kind thoughts and recognise their pain.
These natural disasters are simply that. Many people immediately blame global warming or human impact but in the end we live on an entity we call earth and her movements and actions have no malice. The earth does what the earth does and we who live with her must abide by her will. That is nature. It is only that we are so small and relatively helpless that we are so ravaged by her movements.
I wrote the following poem about quakes.
By Tony DeLorger © 2011
No vengeance, no malice born awakens our crusty mother’s sleep,
to yawn the ravages of human strife and wistful sadness human plight.
‘Tis nothing but release from stress, the idle hands of wrath digest,
like a simple snort as if to wake the rumble growl of nature make.
Pure as our mother’s soul she grips the earth and terror rolls,
outward radiations beat, the quivering life on surface greet.
Like ants we yield to mother’s fate, our plans so weak, our mother’s great,
We are but specks upon a plate, our hardly existence in the wake.
Horror, frightened helpless souls wander aimless death knell tolls,
twisted metal glass and clay, smother life and hope dismay.
Wisps of dying trapped and cold, rise like ashes from the coals,
Frantic digging tears and sweat the living pray for miracles yet.
Many perish, entombed in the mark of human fate,
now laid to rest by natures stirring, balance make while life is yearning.
Sadness falls like darkened clouds on souls unyielding never soured,
for life in all its varied forms lives on though all a weathered storm.
Earth falls back to sleep once more to breath release and balance born,
cycle turns and life survives to carry on what earth supplies.
More by this Author
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A poem considering the dicotomy of love and the melding of this dicotomy when true love is found.
A dramatic poem about being who we are, regardless of the difficulty and pain of pursuit and destiny.