Sheltering with fear, waiting with uncertainty. Holding in the face of flames what seems inadequate and puny, a garden hose. Walls of fire raze walls of a home, a shop, a shed. Scorched earth, fur, breath . . . Empty cracked earth, desolate of water. Wilting, waning, hope evaporating with each empty skied day. Life sold to the highest bidder it seems. For what - who will buy it, who is left, what is left. . . . |
As shouts of Happy New Year rose up, so do have the cries of a land holding great grief . . . .