Suzanne read this poem during "Marysville Remembers", 7 February 2010, Gallipoli Park.
Suzanne R Prien
This was her heart-felt introduction:
"This morning's service has been about remembering those no longer with us, and giving thanks for those of us that have survivied.
The past year has been a long and arduous journey through grief. A grief we have not known before and hopefully will never know again. Our grief is as individual as we are, although generated by a common denominator.
Some of us needed to share it, whilst others have preferred to be alone.
I have written poetry and short stories for more than 20 years. They were kept in a journal along with anecdotes, wise words and witty sayings. I miss my journal. I turned to it often for inspiration or sometimes for words of comfort.
This poem is my journey, it could be yours."
My lttle House, all forlorn
Slightly tattered, somewhat worn.
All put together from old and new
Every size, shape and hue
Yet when I first saw you, I just knew
You were for me, and I for you.
With love and toil, you soon shone anew
I felt so proud of what I could do.
You looked so pretty, you seemed to smile
I knew I'd be with you for quite awhile.
But then came that fateful day
When the winds of fire swept you away.
My heart, my soul, my life, went too.
Where will I go?
What will I do?
The crumpled heap all charred and black
Held precious memories turned now to ash
There's Nana's tea set, blackened and broken
Surely there's something, a momento, a token.
An eerie stillness fills the air
No rustling of leaves, the trees are bare.
Not a bird to be heard, nor to be seen
Everythings black, where once it was green.
Oh! Utter despair
How shall I go on?
What lies ahead
When everything's gone?
The bare earth lays beckoning
For a home full of joy, and laughter, and loving.
And though the time has passed
The healings not done
There's a long way to go
Before I'm home and at one.
The sun is now shining
And the birds are on wing
And the trees are sprouting
Is it spring?
Or just the joy of life returning
Filled with a yearning of hope and goodwill
And the peace of knowing
There will always be, for me,
A cottage in Marysville.