The ground rumbles, the desks shake,
we all pause in our panic
breathlessly waiting to see if school will stand.
The tremors fade, so we file out in rows.
All in height order.
Waiting to be swept by the incoming tide.

29 feet of unstoppable chaos
spills on to a flat plain. Safety lies
just metres away, yet we are not told to go.
They argue as we stand in rows,
dismissing the threat along with the lives
of the seventy four children that died.

My mother waits with the sea eagles,
a year has not dulled the grief, as men search
for my body among the rest of the debris.
But I cannot be found with the silt,
like my brother and the rest ,
I am simply gone. My body lost.