My thoughts are on the typhoons lately. The victims, the true sufferers. The grandmothers that were left behind, the children that shiver from the trauma of rain. My heart goes to all those who still suffer… my prayers, my poem goes out to them.

the wind more than stirs–
enraptured, cultivated with rain
You make a nation fall to
its knees; render it with
reckless passion. What
sins deserve this sort of
destruction that I fall
to my knees and pray
with heavy heart that
You come in, chime in
this deep contemplation
and direct me how
to pray better, how to
have my prayers reach
them better for my
compassion is great,
but my flesh angers
and I can’t help abstain
from criticism and judgement
at how frail and powerless
my proud nation has become!
I stand in the shadow
pray the suffering be over
for my heart kills over
each time I see the face
of a child cry from hunger,
the pain of a desperate
mother turns over and over
as I write here amidst
the inevitable destruction–
writing, writing, writing
until the guilt dissipates,
pray, the rains be over

-mr gahon 11/14/13


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