The wind was just a whipser – Hugh Lake

TRACY…. DARWIN…. CHRISTMAS….’74

It started with a warning

As one the week before

A cyclone was arriving

And trouble was in store

We filled the bath with water

Took pictures off the wall

Put blankets in the bathroom

But Selma did not call                                                   

                                                                  The wind was just a whisper

                                                                  Somewhere way off shore

So when they told us this time

To do what we had done

Another cyclone coming

And this would be the one

We carried on with wrapping

Our presents for the tree

The children were excited

Sang Christmas songs with glee                           

                                                        The breeze began to ruffle waves

                                                        Time for the gods of Thor

Then we began to wonder Was it actually true?

A cyclone really coming?

Fears for the worst soon grew

The Eve of Christmas crumbled

The city began to believe

Shops became empty

Homes reached with relief                

                                              The wind became much windier

                                              Time to knock on the door

In restaurants normally crowded

Customers were few

Voices from the radio

Were warnings of what was due

The rain continued to dampen

The spirit of Christmas cheer

Fairy lights frighteningly shivered

The storm growing ever near

                                  The gusts were guests unwanted

                                  More difficult to ignore

The streets were left for the litter

Scurrying on the ground

Empty parks and empty swings

Swirling round and round

Aborigines were worried

Though why they could not say

They followed age old instincts

Most quietly slipped away

                      The wind worked at the windows

                      Teasing and testing for flaws

Doors were locked to the danger

We followed the radios guide

Worked out where the wind was

Opened windows on the other side

Santa watched from the heavens

Then sent his sleigh away

This was no place for reindeer

To fight the oncoming fray

            The wind stopped pretending

            Arrived with a rush and a roar

And then the noise; the noise, the noise

A cacophony of sounds

An awful audible onslaught

Mother Nature knew no bounds

The Ride of the Valkyries

Met the Rites of Spring

The sonorous sound of the bass notes

The screech of the tearing tin

      The wind shook the houses

      To their very, fragile core

The sirens early warnings

Had seemed unnecessarily loud

But the great black noise on the outside

Covered us like a shroud

Suddenly walls were wavering

The louvres like a sail

Now it seemed more serious

Children started to wail

       The wind was wilfully wanton

       Destroying, demolishing more

Then suddenly the silence

Fooled some into thinking, at last

But the lull was just an illusion

Tracy was only half passed

What was left still standing

Was attacked from the other side

The change in the winds direction

Made it harder and harder to hide

     The wind now grumbled like gunfire

      Of a foregone world at war

Houses started to crumble

We cowed where cover seemed strong

Covered children with our bodies

Our fears with a silent song

And so it went on; and on, and on Would the wind never cease?

Would the world ever seem sane again?

Would sleep bring some peace?

        The wind was longer and stronger

        As through the town it tore

Then slowly, slowly it eased away

The rain rattled less and less

Parents breathed sweet sighs of relief

Most had passed the storm’s test

Then dawn eased in from the east

A gradual, reluctant light

Peering out from where we had hid

To a shocking, frightening sight

             The wind grew less in its night time quest

             Though it seemed to long for more

The city slowly came to life

To a life forever changed

Treasures trashed and houses smashed

In a night when the world seemed deranged

Everyone had a tale to tell

At least, those who had survived

71, when the night was done

Had their future cruelly denied

                  The wind wished to stay and greet the growing day

                  In its calamitous corridor

 A haven of hope was the hospital

Battered but up for the game

A surgeon directed staff who appeared

A Pom with a Polish name

Carers plied skills wherever the need

As casualties came in a flood

A hippy mopped the muddy red floor

Looking green from the sight of the blood

                       The wind waited watchfully, just above ground

                       The crushed city still a draw

Most everyone helped each other

But some just helped themselves

The majority saved just what was theirs

A few stole stuff from the shelves

Some just jumped in their cars

Family crowded in the back

Gathered together food and fuel

Headed off south, down the track

                            The wind was slowly tiring 

                                 Not nearly as strong as before

It took a while for the world outside

To hear of that terrible night

Messages sent to those down south

Please help us in our plight

They still enjoyed their Christmas

In homes far away not near

The cries over the airwaves

Fell on many an untuned ear

                                            The wind sighed satisfactorily

                                            At the carnage on the floor

Then as the news was understood

Australia gathered alms

Holidays were put on hold

As Aussies answered alarms

Gough came back from overseas While Stretton was feet on the ground Where to take the refugees?

30,000 spots to be found

                                                     The wind began to veer away    

                                                                                    New territories to explore

Offers of planes were accepted

From countries with some near at hand

A fire truck with a radio

Helped the first to land

The bigger the better as planes took off

Some passengers still in shock

Safer places had been found

To grieve and to take stock

                                                               The wind heads back from where it came

                                                                 Where to then, not sure

As aid arrived to give relief

Exhausted workers were stood down

Time to take a welcome rest

Let others help those in the town

Whether to stay, or whether to go

What more could we endure Would Darwin ever be rebuilt?

No one could say for sure

                                                                            The wind is pleased it has become       

                                                                        A part of Aussie folklore

Eventually a plan was made

To replace what had been destroyed

Safer structures to survive

New ways to be employed

So a Phoenix has appeared

With buildings big and bold

A safe place to spend a Christmas At least, that’s what we are told.

                                                                                                   And the wind is just a whisper

                                                                                                   Somewhere way off shore

Hugh Lake 2018                                                         hughlake@yahoo.co.uk

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