I smell
death on the wind, chocking plumes of
purple smoke reminding me of lives lost.
I smell blood, staining walls of white,
and black ashes, the colour of mourning.
I see
weeping mothers and lost children,
the whole world is weeping today.
I see, a broken and battered landscape,
what happened to our peaceful town?
I taste
the dust of what used to be and can never be again.
I taste the tears of a thousand families,
who have lost what can’t be replaced.
I hear
bloodcurdling screams of agony,
piercing the black sky.
I hear the indestructible crackle of
the fire as it burns up memories
of happier days.
I feel
burns that cannot be healed with
medicines and only with the passing of time.
I feel the murderous heat of Black Saturday.
