The beach at Port Hedland

 

The beach at Port Hedland, North-western Australia. 1975.

This is a land of sunsets,

Red as the Port Hedland earth,

And sunrises.

Behind, the massive iron-ore heaps

And the huge iron-ore machines.

Sunday, one day workless, free,

Leaving the pent-up mining camp,

Out of the double gates,

A short walk in the heat,

And it was always hot there,

There stretched away the endless sea,

A treacherous sea,

A sea of snakes and octopus,

Stranded in the rocky caves,

Coiled up in their tentacles,

Waiting,

While sharks on guard manoeuvred in the waves.

Behind,

A town of beer and iron-ore and dollars,

Where no one stays for long.

But here,

Shells strewn along the beach,

Where the dark-skinned girls,

Incongruous in dresses,

Gather coral in the sun.

Out there is Bali,

There lie the Indonesian Isles,

And long way up the rocky coast,

Pearling luggers beached at Broome.