After the last earthquake in Christchurch, I posted a poem trying to haul together what had happened there, and express what I'd seen and read at my safe distance in Wellington. I post it again today - the earthquake in Christchurch yesterday has devastated that city and its people. It was far worse in effect than the one last September, but the stuff of this poem does, I think, hold true, especially the opening lines -- and not just for the people of Christchurch but for all of us in NZ at the moment ... 'it mobs us/leaves us/immobile//we are aghast...'
Earth
For the victims of the Canterbury Earthquake, September 2010
Day 1
it mobs us
leaves us
immobile
we are aghast and naked in the doorway
clutching each other, where’s the dog?
we are flying for the children, calling
their names, we are the woman up to her neck
in it, scrabbling for a handhold, calling --
the child behind her on the path stay there
the one she’s rushing to collect stay there
we are the boy running to the grandfather, calling --
we are the family watching the capsizing house
stay there
earth in our ears
earth in our eyes
earth in our hair
Day 2
it runs its fingers
along the fences
and power poles
leaves behind
the sound
anxiety makes
there are
early births
and heart attacks
sleep flies from
windows like
featherless birds
Day 3
the faultline is the
break
in the spine and the
back
and neck
hip
and shoulder bones
adjusting
are the
after
shocks
Day 4
it nudges
like
a dog does
makes
the child vomit
makes
his little brother
shake
and shake and shake
the looters take what they like
the homeless take what they can
the mother says she can’t take anymore
the dairy owner says take what you like pay later
Day 5
it changes
the way we
face the world
that shop we
knew that street
we grew up in
that church
in Little River
we drove past on the way to our holidays
Day 6
the crane drivers are having a field day
one saves a chandelier and bows to the applause
one unpicks a wall brick by brick and leaves small
pyramids ready for rebuilding there are too many
toppled chimneys too many buildings on their knees
nothing can be done about Telegraph Road
Day 7
earth in our hair
earth in our ears
earth in our eyes
we are naked in the doorway
we are shaking like leaves
we are up to our neck in it
scrabbling for a handhold calling --
Mary McCallum
