Tuesday Poem: “June 13”
June 13
This time,
I am not catapulted into heroic mould,
my mind clear as I run through
and then execute whatever task
needs to be done next —
merely noting the geyser
that erupts on the fenceline,
liquefaction flowing in its wake,
and nod, detached, when the flood peaks
just centimetres below our floorline,
mud and water ponding
along two sides of the house.
But this time, there is no calm.
My hands shake
as I work my way down
an identical checklist, fumbling
the first few attempts
at every undertaking while outside
the same grey slick
overruns the property again.
Not so badly as in February, perhaps,
but I still turn away from neighbours,
gathering on the street, from
their variations on the theme
of “it’s happened again”—the mix
of bewilderment and attempts at humour
to paper over the cracks, the hollow,
falling-away sensation in the gut
because it has happened again.
This time, my hands stay shaking,
yet all I feel is numb.
.
© Helen Lowe, 2011
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The first poem in what has turned into an Earthquake Poem sequence, titled A Canterbury Tale, was actually written on June 13, between the 5.7 and 6.3 earthquakes that happened within an hour of each other. So it is perhaps fitting that one of the poems in the sequence is about June 13 itself and the aftermath of two such large earthquakes occurring so close together—especially after we had all begun to hope that the worst might be over.
Given there are now eight poems in the sequence I have decided to give them their own “Earthquake Poem” category in the far right side bar, under the section heading “Categories”—and immediately preceding “Earthquake Reports”, the prose account of my personal earthquake and aftermath experience.
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To read the featured poem on the Tuesday Poem Hub and other great poems from fellow Tuesday poets from around the world, click here or on the Quill icon in the sidebar.
They might say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I do not agree. This series of poems captures the moment perfectly — the emotion of it, how it really feels — and does it better than a snapshot ever could. I guess that’s the true power of words.
I agree with Wen above. That’s how it feels.
Wen, Mary: thank you. I am glad that the poems are working for readers—but maybe a change of topic next week, perhaps even something from another poet …
Amazing poem! so powerful. Am really enjoing the EQ poems (if enjoy is the right word) as they bring to life the reality, the feeling, of what people in chch (and you in particular) must have experienced and continue to experience in a way that the media coverage just cannot convey.
Charlotte, I am really glad you are enjoying them and that the poems offer a valuable perspective, but there may be a wee lull for a while now—there are other poems there but I also feel the need for a ‘change of scene.’ Sometimes one can have just too much earthquake and aftermath and it’s good for both mental and emotional wellbeing to focus on something else.:)