There was a major earthquake last week. These are two poems dedicated to these events that seem so meaningless to us and yet destroy centuries of man’s efforts in a few minutes…
(Dedicated to the Nepal quake)
The red dragonfly sits
And six white butterflies flit
Among the wild flowers.
The shadows of purple mountains tower
Over the little green valley.
The silver stream meanders over the rocky land.
It seems like part of the huge big map
That an unseen mind planned.
He said ,” Let it be.”
And it all sprang to existence.
What is it the hand
That rocks the created land
With earthquakes, floods and whipping sand?
Is it Him again at play
At the start of another cosmic day?