THE WRATH OF GOD
(Nature’s Revenge)
H. W. Bryce
The wrath of God is what the atmospheric river
Felt like to those stranded between landslides,
To the ones driven out by instant floods, to those
Hundreds across the land whose blood ran cold
In fear, huddled together overnighting in their
Cars
To the woman whose car was dragged off the
Road, tipped over the edge and tumbled down
The hillside into the muck and mire, buried in debris…
To the relatives, to the family of hers
It seemed like the wrath of God to thos who watched
And were caught in the rising instant flood as rain
Refused to stop, as streets turned into rivers and their
Pastures became lakes as they waded their panicky
But controlled ways seeking safety
To the cattle, caught in the open, as the water rose
to their belies, and as they were suddenly afloat, their
calves paddling, paddling, to exhaustion, to their deaths
It seemed like the wrath of God to the city of Merrit,
Safe one minute, afloat the next, drowning, the entire
Population evacuated, 7,000 people, victims of the
Revenge of Nature, worn thin from Man’s own neglect
And indifference and damaging ways…
The wrath of God, disappointed in his creations who
Had forgotten the lessons of the forty Days and
Forty Nights, and the promise of the rainbow…
The wrath of God roaring, pounding, destroying, this loving ,
Forgiving God, pushed too far, taken too much for
Granted, tested too much and too often, and now Man
Reaping the crop of consequences that Man had sown,
The seeds of desruction, the results of his (Man’s)
Great disrespect and indulgence
The wrath of God, it seemed to those halted in their tracks
As whole sections of paved highway were cut off, leaving
A dead end, dead drop mid route, gouging the ground
From under the paved surface, leaving only rivers and
Rubble, a ton of trouble, where solid land was and now
Only a slab of pavement jutting out into space
It seemed like God’s wrath for Man’s botched stewardship
As a woman, trapped in her car that was tumbled and
Bounced and rolled down the hillside and laid to rest
On its side in the rubble and mud and wet,
Four or fiv others are shaken in their cars as their vhicles
Were swept off crubling roads and tossed and bounced…
theylay trapped
Trapped
And praying, praying, praying…
Night falls and they are not found. Light is fading, and
Lights are fading…Hope is fading, and a quiet settles
Within each of them and they pray,
Thank you, Father, for the good life that you have
Granted me. Forgive me my trespasses, Father…
I’m coming, Father, I…am…com…ing…
I see
The…
Light…
— —
Forgive us Almighty Father
We will do better…
— —
My prayers for those who were lost in the floods.…
My prayers for those who lost everything.
— —
These were my journalistic notes.
Below is my poem for them, and for their survivors
The Sun Still Rises
H. W. Bryce
Down and out in the mud
But the sun still rises
Double crossed and down
But the sun still rises
No matter how low you sink
Never mind that you have to blink
The clouds still float away
And hope will always stay
Heartbreak and disaster
Will knock us off our feet
But like the sun, we will rise
And dignity will be our prize
Sorely tempted and tested
Still the sun rises anyway
We will rise like the sun and shine
And sing, “This day shall be mine”
Down and out in the mud
But the sun still rises
Double crossed and down
But the sun still rises
— —
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