Driving the bus to visit the world,
I find myself
In the wake of a national disaster.
We are all shaken from the storm
Bodies, buildings, houses and limbs,
Come rushing in unadorned.
The human emotion has reached every possible peak
The anguish, the pain, the fear the emotional
Stench begins to reek.
Each individual heart is broken to bits
Thousands adrift amid all the rubble and mist.
Tragic stories of the human heart
Will be written as lineage on historical charts
Fatal moments of life and glorified moments of yearning
Become ancient wisdom, the teachings, the learning
A country, a people, a time,
A place no more, a face no more
a wake, in the aftermath of a quake,
A disaster in chase,
To re-fire a human race
Sorely spoiled of hope, unable to cope,
Pressed lips against the fish bowl
To steady our shaken hands
Waiting, shell shocked, for it to happen again.
Driving the bus, to visit the world, I stopped at a wake
To honor a people thrown at life by a quake
and its aftermath.