Sarah

[Merv Webster]

SARAH

 

Head stockman for Ned Price her father worked on Magnet Downs; 

a loner and a bushman who'd a phobia of towns. 

He loved the isolation of the far north station runs, 

while Sarah she played carer to his motherless three sons. 

Year in, year out she kept his house, though yearned a female friend; 

the long hot nights and lonesome days, they never seemed to end. 

 

For sixteen years she played that role, her childhood passed her by, 

instead of girlish laughter Sarah sought somewhere to cry. 

Her clothes were men's fare ... shirt and pants ... her hands were callused too;

oh how she longed to get away and live like townsfolk do. 

She dreamed of dresses, dances and the company of friends, 

but morning light would render all her dreams to dreary ends. 

 

A stranger stopped to stay a while for Ned had found him work, 

his ways were flash and carefree, while his smile was more a smirk. 

He sensed the insecurity that plagued poor Sarah's life, 

then played upon her heartstrings, though his song was penned with strife. 

So masterful the melodies, they stole sweet Sarah’s heart, 

within the month she’d left with him;  this man she called ... her Bart. 

 

For near nine months they lived as swells and tasted town delights, 

till deep in debt and desperate they fled like frightened kites. 

Bart headed for the Bloomfield, where he'd mined for tin before, 

and home would be a shanty isolated from the law. 

Exhausted and her child near due poor Sarah lived in dread 

of life in isolation and the gloom which lay ahead.

 

She raised her first-born daughter by the Bloomfield's Upper Arm 

and Bart the artful lover ... well ... he’d lost his luring charm. 

He'd fossick for their livelihood, which sometimes paid quite well, 

but Bart would go on drunken sprees and leave them in that hell. 

So often left with little food, bush tucker was their fare 

until her demon reappeared.  Complain?  She did not dare. 

 

She'd been the subject of his rage on more than one account, 

so for her little daughter's sake, this ploy was paramount. 

Her lot was further burdened for within her womb there lay, 

the miracle of life once more; a son now on his way. 

'Twas just another mouth to feed ... was what filled Sarah's head, 

no sparkle filled this mother's eyes;  salt water welled instead. 

 

Most fathers would be jubilant to have a new born son, 

but love was some forsaken thing and Bart had room for none. 

He often binged in China Camp for rum had claimed his brain, 

while Sarah's isolation slowly sent the girl insane. 

Like feral creatures of the bush her infants roamed at will 

and Sarah's soul just pined away till slowly she grew ill. 

 

'Twas in the early part of June, the day she turned eighteen,  

that drunken creature known as Bart returned upon the scene. 

He found the shanty empty and devoid of human form, 

the silence ... like a deathly calm that comes before the storm. 

From constant bingeing on the rum Bart thought his head would burst, 

so staggered down towards the creek to quench his fiery thirst.

 

Then as he cupped its contents, which was cold and crystal clear, 

Bart's face became so ghostly white; his eyes were filled with fear. 

For in its depths he saw three forms all pale and void of life; 

the family he'd never known ... his children and his wife. 

He buried them beside its bank, then simply walked away 

and where Bart went ... well no one cared ... not even to this day.  

   

It seems poor Sarah lost her mind and did what she thought best; 

she drowned her infants, then herself.  She found eternal rest.  

An old man just some months ago recalled this tale to me, 

I know it made me cry a lot.  Did it do that to thee? 

And LORD ... when it comes time to judge the living and the dead 

please think of Sarah and her kids ... you saw the life they led.

  

© Merv Webster

 

This tale was related to me by an old friend.  Apparently it took place in Northern Queensland, but the names have been changed.  My wife when she read the poem asked what eventually happened to Bart.  My reply was, “No one really seemed to care.  Sadly, there have been lots of Sarah's in this life.  To their memories.  

 

 

[Janeva]

Merv

 

This is a sad tale brilliantly written.  You have created this so concisely and in rhyme which is extremely skillful. 

 

You have told the story in a manner which reminded me of Thomas Hardy novels in the way he portrayed life's injustices and tragedies.

 

The fact that this is based in reality really brings it home to the reader.

 

I will look forward to reading more....

 

Jan

[Merv Webster]

Thank you for sharing this Jan.  For many this world can be very cruel.

 

 

 

Merv