Church Christchurch once torn by earthquakes rugged rips
Where satin dark descends on sandy shores
Sweet lady of the nighttime skies and dawn
Still holds the broken dreams that men despise
Yet from the shadows dawn of broken time
The lady starts to grow again in form
New buildings climb on what was the broken past
New dreams begin to grow from broken hearts
The lady of the night still shows the pain
Some buildings still hold scars of broken pain
Those with wealth can dance upon her shores
Well others sleep on roads of broken nights
With empty pockets cold and shivered plight
For both may see a different vivid dream
A necklace of the stars is seen by some
Well others live with empty stomachs hum
I hope one day the love will grow to action
The people that have money will invest
Creating jobs for everyone is best
I love the trees that line your rivers banks
The kindness of some hearts still have my thanks
What if the orbiting earth were to unexpectedly run into a brick wall
speeding through the galaxy one night in the middle of Fall?
Can you imagine the sounds of death, destruction, and annihilation
as Christchurch, New Zealand, crashes into the Atlanta Metro bus station?
I don’t think that that would be any fun at all!
Listen……hear
the distant hum
of early morning traffic
on Westgate Bridge,
a chorus of birdsong
and that eastbound
aeroplane flying high
overhead en route
to Wellington
or Christchurch.
The clink of rigging
on those moored boats
riding a passing wake,
nearby footsteps,
the tap of a stick,
the jingle of a spoon
inside an empty
coffee cup.
Voices spilling out
of an open window,
someone blowing
their nose,
the scrape
of a soapy squeegee
across a cafe door
and on the edge
of hearing,
the deep throb
of a ferry casting off
from the end
of Williamstown pier.
How wonderful it is
for all these sounds
to have found
a way to my ear.
Babies cry, sleep, change nappies, feed. Toddlers drink water from cups. Younger brothers, younger sister, older brother, older sister, small town, large country.
One lane roads, one lane bridges, unsealed, 60mph, in the dark. Bush covered gorges, rail lines across the river, small waterfalls, windows down, no seatbelts in the back seat, lying down, sleeping on the rugs, stopping for carsick ones on the edges. Mum singing, Dad driving, children counting dead possums.
The ways into town run through a long winding gorge or a longer winding coastal road, both prone to slips. Nearest cities Christchurch, Nelson, 200 miles away. Only referred to as the Coast, with its own dialect, only belonging when born there.
Biscuits four trays, oven
Bread hot water cupboard rising, Dad late
Holden Kingswood written off, dead bull
Packs, boots, carbide lamps, white fizzy hosing down leggings, parkas, gumboots, bikes, back porch full.
Flames warm quality coal
Sheet lightening children’s window race
Nothing more calming than the thunder of the rain.
THE TRIAL
With shackled hands and feet
he steps clumsily
into the dock.
Pushed down into his seat
he sits
pale-faced,
jug-eared,
impassive,
young,
and gazes out
at those who would accuse him.
Listening to the people speak
of their anger,
loss and grief,
of the violence hurled
one Christchurch day
in the madness of a killing spree
when Muslims came to share and pray
in innocence and peace.
No answers
for the darkness
of that savage day
when racist hatred burned.
The trial now over,
the sentence made.
The families brave
in their resolve,
step out into the sunshine
of a Christchurch afternoon.
Supporters gather round and cheer,
greeting the families with their love,
applause at justice done,
a waiata sung.
In unity a community
can now move on,
knowing that the time for love
and healing has begun.
ARINA FISH
I gift to you this world my child
Alas its’ troubles I can’t tame
Others efforts I have reviled
On judgement day I’ll face the same.
I’ve seen the mosque where people weep
At times Christs’ church rocked to the core
and God’s chosen placed in trenches deep
Watched peace and love hijacked for war.
Cowards choose to say they’ve failed
So do not accept mans’ violent bent
Hate speech is bloodshed thinly veiled
Unity a gift from heaven sent.
When imam, priest or rabbi call
Hear love not hate to heal us all.
Killing each other
Whether Christian or Muslim
A crime against God!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
15 March 2019
BBC: Forty-nine people have been killed and at least 40 wounded in shootings
at two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand.
RIP our brothers!
* I am a Christian but my heart is bleeding the same for my Muslim brothers!
Hollie was born with no right forearm,
In Lincolnshire on June 26th in 1994,
But now resides in Wales, Hengoed,
To train at Cardiff Metropolitan Uni.
The F46 javelin category suits her,
And she discovered herself one day,
At a Star Track Athletics sports course,
During one summer holidays, short.
She competed in Beijing and London,
And won many medals as a junior,
So in Christchurch at the IPC Worlds,
She took home a bronze to rub bare.
Then in 2012 at the Euros, Holland,
She moved up a notch to win silver,
And in Lyon at the IPC Worlds, 2013,
She threw 37.45m, a PB to win gold.
2015 Worlds, and she made 40.53m,
To retain the gold and top the board,
And at Rio 2016 she found success,
When she recorded 43.01m, a gold.
The moment that changed a city
The moment that changed a town
The moment that the earth did move
The moment that walls came down.
Sudden shock in the dark of night
Not expected before a coming day
Jolted from a peaceful sleep
From a nasty brutal sway.
What seemed to be eternity
Seconds that weren't so quick
Suddenly silence spread its sound
Except the echo of an old clocks tick.
Fears for friends and family
The networks all gone down
Checking neighbours in the street
Emotions shaky as the ground.
Listening to the radio
Expecting death to fill the air
Bracing with every aftershock
Terror laid fully bare.
Angels must have worked that night
No one badly harmed
Not knowing in the future
We weren’t to be so charmed.
4th September 2015
Christchurch Earthquake September 4th 2010. The smaller earthquake on February 22nd 2011 was to claim 185 lives.
I feel translucent
a man of marble skin
as if dreaming my motions
every step a tread in water
each reach of my hand
a ghost grip touches
but nothing holds and yet
I clutch these stones and
iron spear barricades
as a sea-snail would the bedrock
for this is my folly
to hug close the masonry of charity
I feel nothing
no remorse runs down my arms
to my useless wrists
no rage
twists my mouth into rabid snarl
no pleasure lifts my face
from the footfalls
of those celestial beings
bustling above
not even a soaked black wall
on which I am a shadow
penetrates my deadened hide
I feel grotesque
I am a gargoyle of flesh and bone
sown into the fabric of these
towers with closed doorways
that form broken arch homes
for broken things
but
no longer am I broken
I have embraced
the cold and hunger
of my mouth and my soul
I am free of this place
Yet
here I am still
here for you to see
if you can stomach
to see me
From The Pagan Field (print 1996, eBook 2013) available FREE until 15 Nov. at
http://www.amazon.com/The-Pagan-Field-extended-E-ebook/dp/B00F395DAU
I feel translucent
a man of marble skin
as if dreaming my motions
every step a tread in water
each reach of my hand
a ghost grip touches
but nothing holds and yet
I clutch these stones and
iron spear barricades
as a sea-snail would the bedrock
for this is my folly
to hug close the masonry of charity
I feel nothing
no remorse runs down my arms
to my useless wrists
no rage
twists my mouth into rabid snarl
no pleasure lifts my face
from the footfalls
of those celestial beings
bustling above
not even a soaked black wall
on which I am a shadow
penetrates my deadened hide
I feel grotesque
I am a gargoyle of flesh and bone
sown into the fabric of these
towers with closed doorways
that form broken arch homes
for broken things
but
no longer am I broken
I have embraced
the cold and hunger
of my mouth and my soul
I am free of this place
Yet
here I am still
here for you to see
if you can stomach
to see me
Down by the Avalon at the Christchurch Square
Weeps the living willows, serene, free from care
Nature’s own exotic home, a garden set in greenery
Here the Avon River fountain flows majestically
Victoria Park rest near the Christchurch Town Hall theme
Punting on the Avon is a relaxing pastime dream
This Avon runs along the botanical gardens to view
The Copthorne Central hotel overlooking Victoria park too
You can dine A La Carte while you travel round the city
Punting the Avon without seeing the cathedral would be a pity
Seeing the Bridge of Remembrance over the Avon is awesome
Sort of like Autumn before springtime helping life blossom
Avon River at Victoria Square is Heaven’s garden summery
It runs through Hagley Park, in Christchurch, breathtakingly
Nearest the Train Station Tramway, a few miles from my home
Check out some of the photos here of places where I roam
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