Where children played
In lush green fields,
And after which
They took a dip,
At the foot
Of gushing falls;
Where the mist
Of the early morning,
Hung low among
The verdant hills
Where it seemed
Worth living in,
The bounteous midst
Of nature’s gifts,
There she struck
Like ne’er before,
A mighty blow
At the very core,
Of what was once,
Seemingly so,
One of her own
Favourites.

She poured her fury
Down in torrents,
She ripped the land,
Sending rocks, mud and sand,
In humungous swathes,
Down the slopes
Once kissed so gently
By the morning mist,
Now transformed.

And hapless folks,
Who’d slept in their homes,
Peacefully, not long ago,
Were swept away,
Or swamped beneath
The filth flowing
Down the hill,
Not living to see,
Another day
Dawn on the ravage,
That the benevolent mother
Turned savage,
Has left behind
In her wake.

All we can do now,
Is to watch in horror,
As she seeks to plunder
Everything she bestowed,
Out of her bounty,
Once, long ago,
And wonder
“Where did we go wrong?”

#waynandlandslide

Image Credit: Photo by Nguyen Nguyen on StockSnap