Homework WE 5/10/15 - The Red Dirt Road to Nowhere
Posted: Tue Sep 22, 2015 5:29 pm
The Red Dirt Road to Nowhere
(c) Shelley Hansen 22/9/15
“A red dirt road to Nowhere!” said the people from the town.
She headed there on horseback, for they’d radioed her down
to see the youngest baby, struck with measles, very ill
at Cootamundra Station out behind Gold Digger’s Hill.
He met her at the ridge, the old black tracker, grave and wise.
She knew the case was desperate, for worry framed his eyes.
He said, “The Missus waiting for you, Missy – ride this way –
there’s crying at the Station. Baby – she no good today.”
She rode along in silence, safe within his guiding wake.
He led her with conviction, knowing just which path to take.
He said, “My people, Missy, they use healing magic stones
when someone sick or wounded gets the fever in the bones.”
“It comes from ancient wisdom and the message of the land,
but this no good for Baby. White men – they don’t understand.
You young to be a healer.” She could tell this was a test,
but said, “Don’t worry Billy – for I’m here to do my best.”
They passed the long night sleepless, by the light of kero lamp -
the baby fought the fever, though her burning brow was damp.
The morning sun brought light at last, and finally, relief –
for nursing care had saved the child, and hope sprang out of grief.
They rode back down the gully, the old tracker and the nurse.
He treated her with new respect. For better or for worse
she felt the bond between them, though their lives lay far apart –
but culture and tradition are transcended by the heart.
When duty calls her she’ll obey and ride the lonely trail
to ease the pain of suffering – and sometimes, she will fail.
But she’ll remember Nowhere till her days approach their end –
for Nowhere’s close to Somewhere when you’ve made a lasting friend.
(c) Shelley Hansen 22/9/15
“A red dirt road to Nowhere!” said the people from the town.
She headed there on horseback, for they’d radioed her down
to see the youngest baby, struck with measles, very ill
at Cootamundra Station out behind Gold Digger’s Hill.
He met her at the ridge, the old black tracker, grave and wise.
She knew the case was desperate, for worry framed his eyes.
He said, “The Missus waiting for you, Missy – ride this way –
there’s crying at the Station. Baby – she no good today.”
She rode along in silence, safe within his guiding wake.
He led her with conviction, knowing just which path to take.
He said, “My people, Missy, they use healing magic stones
when someone sick or wounded gets the fever in the bones.”
“It comes from ancient wisdom and the message of the land,
but this no good for Baby. White men – they don’t understand.
You young to be a healer.” She could tell this was a test,
but said, “Don’t worry Billy – for I’m here to do my best.”
They passed the long night sleepless, by the light of kero lamp -
the baby fought the fever, though her burning brow was damp.
The morning sun brought light at last, and finally, relief –
for nursing care had saved the child, and hope sprang out of grief.
They rode back down the gully, the old tracker and the nurse.
He treated her with new respect. For better or for worse
she felt the bond between them, though their lives lay far apart –
but culture and tradition are transcended by the heart.
When duty calls her she’ll obey and ride the lonely trail
to ease the pain of suffering – and sometimes, she will fail.
But she’ll remember Nowhere till her days approach their end –
for Nowhere’s close to Somewhere when you’ve made a lasting friend.
This is a beaut poem really paints the picture for the reader. And by the way altering the prompts a little to fit the poem or metre of whatever is fine, they're not set in concrete.