In the wake of the recent devastating storms in the Philippines, nature’s fragility echoes through broken branches and scattered leaves. This Tanka reflects on the quiet aftermath—where hope lingers, and the question of restoration remains tenderly unanswered.
Neurotic Wind (a Tanka)
I hope – and wonder – after the neurotic wind shyly stops blowing: who’ll repair the broken trees, and rescue the orphaned leaves?
I saw a mellow sun Melt into a grey sky I saw a shallow moon Fall under a dark curtain I sliced the sickly atmosphere With the Reaper’s shadowy sickle
I heard a little wattlebird Tip-toeing through the broken trees I listened to a killer whale Crawling along a black, oily beach I felt the stained seashells Squelch into my murky footprints
I was dozing on a bed of tanbark And after my brown eyes opened I wondered. Was I having a nightmare Or was my dark apparition real?
With my spaceship’s sails full And the spinnaker pulling us west Our journey around the world Will be an expeditious adventure Navigating our way over polluted oceans And above war-ravaged ground
I’ll be confirming, first-hand That our planet is, water, green, and round And not a flat contaminated compound