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Earthquake in Morocco—8 September, 2023
My flight to Casablanca landed late,
and through an ill-chanced vagary of Fate
I found myself—soon Mauritania bound—
Inside a gangway, meters off the ground,
Queuing, hot and sweaty, as our plane
Stood ready to accept a weighty gain.
At first my bones and joints absorbed a jolt
And judders. Earth’s preamble of revolt,
Of mantle readjustments yet to come—
Reminding us that Nature’s never mum.
For next the gangway’s shuddering increased,
And long metallic groans declared a beast
Unleashed to roam its Atlas Mountain lair,
To tear down habitations, charge the air
With screams and dust and darkness till the night
Was fear-filled, with humanity in flight.
And meantime, on the gangway, I’d remained,
Till in my ears the cries of women rained,
Who left their onboard luggage in their wake.
So, stumbling, I followed for my sake,
Pitched side-to-side, unbalanced as a sot,
To safety at Gate 8, to mull my lot,
Not knowing of the thousands lying dead
Not far away, entombed, their mortal bed
Weighed down by bricks and concrete, while the brute
That caused such terror once again went mute.
.
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Paul A. Freeman is the author of Rumours of Ophir, a crime novel which was taught in Zimbabwean high schools and has been translated into German. In addition to having two novels, a children’s book and an 18,000-word narrative poem (Robin Hood and Friar Tuck: Zombie Killers!) commercially published, Paul is the author of hundreds of published short stories, poems and articles.
How skillful, Paul, that you composed this poem so shortly after the quake. The last reported death toll that I heard is 2,800. It would appear that their building construction is not very modern. “Judders” is a new word for me, one for which I looked up the meaning.
I wrote the poem the day after the earthquake, Cheryl. I was in Casablanca Airport at the time it struck, halfway down the gangway before boarding a plane to Mauritania. Where I was standing, like being in the middle of a bridge, the force of the tremors was amplified. It was truly terrifying. Ironically, our plane to Casablanca was late and I should have been in the air by that time.
The problem with construction is that buildings aren’t made to the standards they’re supposed to be (see what happened in Turkey, especially, last year) due to corruption, and are then prone to collapse if a sizable earthquake comes along.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
What a terrifying experience, Paul, that you’ve been able to document in memorable poetry! It must have been particularly heart-rending to learn that you were so close to the suffering of so many and yet were spared. May the thousands of victims rest in peace.
It was only because I was halfway down the gangway that the shuddering was so strong. A colleague at the end of the gangway felt almost nothing, and when I asked the official at Gate 8 if it was an earthquake, he pooh-poohed the idea.
The whole experience was bizarre and humbling, considering the death and destruction caused not far away. It’s impossible to comprehend the suffering and sense of loss of the victims.
Paul, a rarely used expression for a masterful poem is “good stroke,” and that seems right for praising this one. The regular rhymed couplets contrast with many breaks in syntax, and with noise in the second and third sections. I like “Nature’s never mum,” meaning that she isn’t quiet because of physical forces constantly in motion, and that she isn’t motherly. Also like “humanity in flight” at the end of the second section, whether it means people are forced into unexpected motion as you were, or that they are voluntarily seeking refuge from devastation. Either way, it’s not the usual airport flight experience. Excellent work ex tempore.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Margaret.
It was all very surreal, and as you say, not the usual airport experience. There’s something to be said about writing up experiences like this quickly, before the poet gets to mull over the wider consequences of an event like this.
An excellent poetic retelling of your most frightening experience, Paul. I too was amazed with the speed of your poem and at the time thought all was imagined until I read your responses. Glad you are safe & sound to continue writing.
Thanks for your good wishes and for reading, JD. I’ll see about writing something positive and light-hearted about Mauritania, where I am now. I think I owe it.
Superb! The rhythm, rhymes and jolts. Absolutely stunned by these brilliant lines:
Earth’s preamble of revolt,
Of mantle readjustments yet to come—
Reminding us that Nature’s never mum.
And, on top of that to convert that experience into this poem.
Thank you
Thanks, Rohini.
Paul,
I recently began a poem with the words, “I often write a poem to get something off my chest.” In your poem you have done that very thing as you made the attempt to capture and comprehend your experience of being on the edge of a terrifying and destructive earthquake in what most of us would describe as a remote and exotic location.
Your poem successfully gets your experience and thoughts off of your chest and onto ours.
I am glad to know that you are safe and sound, while praying for those who are suffering and grieving the loss of family, friends, and homes.
Safe travels, friend.
Thanks, James. To tell the truth, I’m still processing what happened and how lucky I was. Then there’s all the TV images of those who were not so lucky which just saddens me.
Like I’ve said, I need to write something a bit upbeat, partly to get my mood right, but also to show that there are many positives in this part of the world.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Paul, this is a brilliant poem, and I’m amazed that you were able to write it so swiftly. You made us feel like we were there with you! So sad and terrifying, but captured so skillfully.
Thank you, Russell.
Paul, you have channelled the terror of the situation you were in perfectly in this finely crafted piece that exposes the full horror of the earthquake in Morocco using all the tools in your poetic power… and the result is affecting and admirable.
Thank you very much, Susan. I wish I hadn’t been in a position to write this poem, but am glad it has proven an affecting piece.
My next poetic foray I imagine will be a bit of ‘fluff’ – ish.
Deft treatment of what was a scary time for you, but even more fearful and devastating for the inhabitants of Morocco. I just read about flooding in Libya today (September 12) that may have killed 10,000. Your presence there is reflected in your words and phrases and evoke the scene masterfully in our own minds.
What’s happening in Libya is horrific, Roy, and the weather system is apparently headed for Egypt.
Thanks for reading and for commenting.
Well done! Despite the first-person narrative, you have placed the Earth, not yourself, as the lead character. Its power, imperiousness, and rage are vivid: “beast unleashed” and “brute.” It takes real skill to write in first person and not make the poem about oneself.
May your future travels be safe and uneventful.
Thank you for your comment, Mary. Yes, uneventful would be nice for a while.
I loved it, because I could believe it and disbelieve it at the same time. Possibly, the best of yours I’ve read so far. Keep shining!
Thanks for reading and commenting, CB. I’ll try to keep my shine.