Breakwaters

 At the lookout of the Brother North,

I turned some wiser more,

While far below, North Haven shone

With its waters, sands, and shore

 

The neighbouring inlet waters stood

Peaceful, silent, mild

Though not far, the Pacific roared

Its waters, insane wild

 

For, at Camden Haven Inlet’s mouth,

Were built breakwaters three,

Sentinels that silent stood

In rocks, concrete, and scree

 

And these in turn, helped break the rage

Of waves and salty tide,

The madness contained far away,

The insanity denied

 

But you could only see the picture full

From the lookout far above,

While on the ground, the village stood

Oblivious in love

 

And I wondered then, of our lives as well,

Similar, not very grand -

A silent haven, passing creek,

A sea and shore of sand

 

And breakwaters in that life as well

Many we cannot see,

But standing quietly in border-lands

Fighting the tides of sea

 

While placid flow the streams within

Rich in oyster farms,

As Grey nurse sharks and pelicans play

In the Haven’s peaceful charms

 

And it is only when we walk afar

When the distant hills we roam,

That we get to see the canvas full

Of the valley we call home

 

And all those hearts that fight for us -

The souls that quietly pray

Unseen guardians, watchmen few

The breakwaters of our everyday…

 

 

These lines were inspired during my short sojourn to the picturesque North Haven town, in the greater Port Macquarie region of NSW – I had reached the North Brother lookout for stunning views of North Haven and Camden Haven when I spotted the three breakwaters at the mouth of the Camden Haven Inlet, and realised the impact they had. While the sea beyond was tempestuous and enraged, the inlet remained calm, serene and silent, the entropy of the outside world as if shock-absorbed by the breakwater sentinels. Yet, one couldn’t see the full picture on the ground, and would be forgiven to assume that the quiet inlet was reflective of a quiet outside world as well.

The magic of the breakwaters, I had murmured to myself, when I also realised how much the panorama was a metaphor of our everyday life. It also made me wonder then, of people who were - despite our ignorance - guarding us every single day, bearing the brunt of the Pacific while we remained unaware, nonchalant and oblivious, happily admiring the quietude, unaware of their contribution.

The spark of the thought inspired me thereby to compose the lines above.

 

 

21^st April, 2025