Cyclonic Storms

Water, water everywhere:
Not a hut to live!
Many souls are dying fast-
Not a dole to give!
Pyres burn in burial grounds,
With scarce wood that’s wet;
Sadness fills survivors’ hearts:
None can console them!

Rain had washed mud-huts galore,
In low-lying plains;
People perched on roofs ‘like birds’,
Rain-soaked, sleepless, starved!
Roads and bridges water-logged:
Vehicles cannot ply;
The luckier ones have been rescued,
Sheltered in some schools.

Oh, what a rainy down-pour God!
These states had never seen;
Dams, lakes, rivers full to their brim:
Could burst anytime!
And what a human tragedy,
Furious Nature brought!
People have lost everything-
The little they possessed.

Cyclone storms keep recurring:
Ruthlessly each year;
These are worse than Tsunamis-
Millions of lives at risk!
Could God be not more merciful?
The poor suffer the brunt;
Their future looks so bleak and sad;
Will world not open its eyes?

Yet, why such things are happening?
Are they man-made or God?
Man can but pray just fervently,
Beg God to spare His rod!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 12-21-2005