On that first afternoon
\nit was all about noise:
\nsirens, the continual tuk-tuk-tuk
\nof helicopters, and the slow drone
\nof freight planes airlifting in supplies—noise
\nand the smell of smoke
\nhanging in a pall
\nacross the inner suburbs
\nas the CTV building burned.<\/p>\n
But in the days following
\nI recall the silence of a city
\nwhere daily business had all but ceased,
\ncars off the road, people staying home
\nor fled\u2014over 70,000 now
\nthe pundits claim, since February 22nd\u2014
\nand at night the profound darkness
\nof a power blackout. On the evening
\nwhen the street lights blinked back on
\nwe were out walking in the blue dusk:
\nthe light overhead flick-flick-flickered \u2013
\nand then the whole street
\nwas bathed in a saffron haze,
\nilluminating the other side
\nof the road and a friend
\noutside the wreckage
\nthat had once been her business
\nMy friend’s father, helping her,
\nhad just lost his home, and she,
\nlooking dry-eyed at collapsed bricks,
\nsaid simply: “It’s over. It’s all over.”
\n.
\n\u00a9 Helen Lowe, 2011<\/p>\n
—<\/p>\n