And The Skies Poured Sorrow.

Queensland. Beautiful one minute, perfect the next? At the moment I'm pretty certain that both the locals and tourists (now, that would have been one crap holiday) would agree that if litigation were to arise regarding false advertising, Queensland wouldn't have a leg to stand on.

The footage is harrowing. Images of cars carried away in a sea of brown water, the faces of passengers being delivered to an unknown fate, one minute a figure on the news, lost the next. Words, spoken by politicians, describing Queensland's darkest hour, sound hollow and cliched as news of those trapped filter through. The numbers of dead and missing rise. 8 dead, 72 missing. A child care centre with ten kids trapped, undoubtedly petrified and wishing for the comfort of their mothers arms. Children still trapped in schools, victims of the sheer speed at which the wall of water came through.

The news choppers fly over head, capturing images of people on rooftops, but unable to offer any help, as has been the case in so many other disasters. 9-11, Hurricane Katrina, the Indonesian tsunami and now, the Great Northern Deluge.

The rain started in October, and it's barely paused. I was there in mid October, flew up during a gap in the showers, on one of the days when the rain was replaced by a buffeting wind, leading pretty young girls on my flight to think they'd plummet to the ground in a fiery inferno. They were wrong, the disaster was still a way off, but it was almost as if they could feel the storm brewing on the horizon.

I have family in Queensland, a niece, a nephew, a sister, a brother, in laws, and then there's my Peacock Family. Those beautifully plumed people are why I went there. And they're why I'm glued to the screen, picturing them on those roof tops. I'd never even met them, and these wonderful people flew me from Sydney to Brisbane, to celebrate my amazing and fabulous peacock sister/fiance's birthday.

My Peacock Family.

A face I knew from Facebook greeted me like a long-lost brother, a friend of my Peacock Family drove us to Peacock Manor, nestled between Ipswich and Brisbane. I arrived and fell in love with the whole family. And now that family is in harms way. Every time I see images of people sitting, drenched, on rooftops, I imagine my Peacocks, clinging to safety, the father hanging on protectively and valiantly to those he and I both love, the child confused and uncertain, and my beloved peacock sister/fiancee, worrying for her child and her family, and lets face it, her stability and way of life.

Its an uncertain time for Brisbane, as the water approaches with all its power and fury. My Peacock family is just one of the families at risk, and when we watch those people and see everything they own being carried away by the water, remember they're someones special people. Everyone is someones special family. At the moment they're newsworthy, but when we've forgotten those forlorn rooftop figures, those lives will still need rebuilding.

Lost in the deluge are countless snapshots of happy moments, frozen pieces of time from people's lives. Favourite shirts, comfortable, well loved shoes, beloved toys, and pillow's people cant sleep without. All small things, but gone, and the sum total of these losses is immeasurable.

And it's not over. The waters haven't hit Brisbane yet, but they will. And they'll continue their terrible onslaught until nature bores of her game. Think of all those many families in the path of the Deluge in the coming days, and send hope their way. Think of my Peacock family, roads already cut off in various places around them, and for so many, nowhere to go even if they could get out. I'm sure you have a Peacock family up there, too, you do if there's anyone special to you in the flood zone.

Nikhaylah, Richard and Boots, I wish I was there with you. My heart is there. And I really do love you.