We will live

It was a beautiful service today. Thousands of people and scarcely a sound, even before it started. I loved Helen Wilson's poem, We will live. She captured our feelings perfectly. I hope it is publsihed somewhere as I would like to keep it, to read it again and again.

It was hot. A hot hot day and it has scarcely rained (in West Coast terms) since the second explosion, and no proper rain since the first. I thought about Hone Tuwhare's poem Rain tonight as I watered the garden. Part of me longs, paradoxically given the season, for rain. Gallons and buckets and at least a whole day of heavy rain. It feels like it would be cleansing, though we've not sinned or sullied as such. The rain of the West Coast is what produces the lovely ferns which were shared and placed today. It is the fire in the heart of the mine which burns our men up even now and the persistent sun is an echo.

I had held back from visiting, fearing to overload an already burdened family and then given the bugs in our household. As I left Omoto today, I knew it was now time, in this coming week, to visit a young man I know, a man whose Dad is still underground.

In Helen Wilson's poem, she talks of being kinder to each other, of this as the tribute to our 29 men. I hope to hold onto this, to put it into action not just in coming weeks, but as the months and years roll on here in Wetville. Opportunities to build hope, to build love and build achievement will present themselves in the difficult ways, spiked and twisted by trauma. I want to be here and do something useful.

At the end of watering the garden, I took the camera out to watch the ball of fire go down in the sky. From the top of our road I could see the waves rise and crash. The fire in the mine won't go down with the sun. I didn't get a fern today - our bus arrived only fifteen minutes before the service and I didn't see any where I walked in. But for me water - rain and sea - is the symbol of hope, of the renewal which means we will not burn our hearts out.

Comments

Megan said…
I loved Helen's poem too - she summed up my experience perfectly so I imagine there will be many more it will resonate with. I was at home with the kids but saw her read online - had a good cry.
Enjoying your blog - have started my own!
Anonymous said…
Sandra
As I sat in the car listening to the poem I actually wondered if somehow YOU had been picked to write and read....it sounded so like something you'd have written, except you'd have been planting instead of mowing, and walking children instead of a dog.
Kia kaha
Rachael
Anonymous said…
One of the most poignant poems written for a specific emotion I have heard for the longest time. It made me weep then made me happy, it made me think and it certainly gave me some peace, thank you Helen.
Thank you for all of your comments. I see the Press has published Helen Wilson's poem today and I'm going to put a copy on my wall by my computer and at work.

Megan I am thrilled you are blogging at last! A real live local blogging friend, it's very exciting.

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