As we become more and more aware of the loss of our forests, our wild places, our healthy oceans and the creatures of land, sea and air that we will never ever see again, this poem reminds me that we are bearing witness to the slow and rapid death of our living, breathing planet.
This image held up such a mirror for me, it’s like the images playing through my mind of my own home, how the still life of preciously placed things would have been hungrily consumed by the fire. And how easily your home sanctuary can be reduced to rubble and ash. And now hundreds and hundreds of others are homeless like us…
Three days before the fire took our home I wrote this….
There’s hardly any honey on the local beekeeper’s shelves and he explains it’s because of the drought (the flowers didn’t flower), and because of the fires that burnt huge tracts of wild bush and because of a bee disease moving up from the South so he can’t move his hives. We are all rationed…