Our country hangs its head in shame.
Summer months of scorching sand,
Fires blaze across our land.
Mercury up over forty,
Ministers stay stiffly haughty.
Sunburnt Country long forgotten,
Water used to irrigate cotton.
Judith Wright would sigh and weep,
At broken land with cracks so deep.
Raging flames that travel fast,
Houses burn with folk aghast.
Weather turns and comes to rob them,
Sceptics say there is no problem!
Look upon the western sky,
Lands below withered dry.
Smokey haze and eerie gloom,
Smell of ash in every room.
Evening sun with crimson glow,
Frightening feel as hot winds blow.
Leaders talk of economics,
Is the Prime Minister reading comics?
And time moves now with quickened pace,
The entire planet has a changing face.
Our precious kids will feel the pain,
Our country hangs its head in shame.
Chris Dennis is an Associate Dean and Physician at Royal North Shore Hospital.
This post kindly provided to us by one of our many occasional contributors.
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