Tsunami | Inquirer Lifestyle


The ocean recedes,
the seabed appears,
the seawater boils,
and a big wave rears

its towering cowl,
and heads for the land:
it covers the surf,
and covers the sand.

With the speed of wind
it cuts down the trees,
carries off houses,
drowns prayers and pleas.

It rips across seashores
like a curse returning,
it rips through the fishers,
boats, bathers now turning

into shattered remains,
into jetsam and flotsam,
cold bodies afloat,
so chilling and gruesome

and while bodies pile up,
the horror floods deeper
in the hearts of the living,
barely spared by the reaper.

Man, woman and child weep,
searching the seashore
for a hand, for a voice,
for their life lived before.

When plates underneath
collide and erupt
no angel or God
would dare interrupt

the fury of old earth
in one of its rages
that kill off mere earthlings
all through the ages.
—Edgar B. Maranan

From the Carlos Palanca First Prize winner, “The Google Song & Other Rhymes for Children,” coming out in 2011 from Anvil Publishing