A Firestorm

• Isaac Kate Morris, Grade 11
• Poetry
• 2020

A fire storm raging, 8am sky black, fifteen past smoke, half way, ember attack. The doors to the shelter, sealed closed tight, people huddle in, a strange foreign night.

Sirens and lights flashing, oxy passed around, all set to defend, our home, our ground. Loss is inevitable, over a dozen in despair, cries over the siren, slicing through the air.

Time has passed, an hour? Two? Nobody knows, still can’t see blue. December three one, dooms day repeated, thick dense smoke, the flames, defeated.

Body’s blackened, eyes turned red, timber turned ash, a family with no bed. The front has passed, devastation unknown, strangers hugging, community connection grown.

The fire has struck, tipped a town off its feet, scorched land, nothing to see, home evacuated, iron fleet.