A Question of FaithA Poem by David Lewis Paget‘I’d swear that the sun is hotter,’ she said, ‘It’s hotter than I can recall, The garden’s turned into a desert, is dead My plants are fried up to the wall.’ I said I agreed, the car was so hot I often got scorched by the steel, The belt with the buckle was always red hot And so was the steering wheel.
I said you could tell by the state of the road Could tell by the bitumen melt, The surface was shiny with liquefied tar The heat off the surface you felt. Beyond was the countryside, brown and bereft Not a single green shoot could you see, The bushes were brown from the top to the ground And there wasn’t a leaf on a tree.
‘The place is like tinder, it just needs a spark And it all will go up with a roar,’ We couldn’t survive in the smoke from the park, We would have to be gone, well before. I told Desdemona to pack us a case, Just those things we would need on the run, Some food and some water, a doll for our daughter, Remember to pack us a gun.
We took it in turns to keep watch through the night, To listen to every slight breeze, The heat was intense, we looked over the fence For any strange light through the trees, It came from the valley, that terrible roar So we knew that the demon was out, Some one lit a spark way down in the park And Des raised the house with a shout.
The three of us piled in the four wheel drive And headed up over the hill, The terror of flames in the rear view mirror Have plagued and have haunted me still. The wind had been gusting and fanning the flames Pursuing us on our retreat, Had crept up beside us and threatened to ride Ahead to our certain defeat.
The heat so intense it had cracked the screen And blistered the paint on the door, When Desdemona let out a scream To point to the gun on the floor. ‘Is this why you asked me to pack the gun, Is it either that, or burn?’ I’d not meet her eyes with a tissue of lies So I masked my own concern.
I heard her pray as the tyres caught fire And exploded, one by one, I kept the pedal flat to the floor, It was either that, or the gun. Then out of the darkness loomed a lake, It was water up to the doors, We came to rest where the water blessed With the fire held back by the shores.
The skies were grey and they opened up With God’s good grace at the dawn, I held my wife and my daughter close As the rain made us feel reborn, When the people tell me there is no God I just smile, and I let them go, If he isn’t there then I find it odd That he sent the rain… I know!
David Lewis Paget © 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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