Twilight After
The
swirling
ripples, the angry waves have now churned to a sudden stillness,
The
whimpering
cries of a hungry frightened babe stifled by the echoing darkness,
The
lapping of
the waves echoed on the deserted and lonely beach,
A
twig, a piece
of driftwood, a broken doll silhouetted upon the barren shore.
Flirting
with
the rhythmic waves that playfully tossed a sparkling fish,
A
pair of sea
gulls harmonised their rhapsodic movements to catch their dish.
A
crab moving
cautiously sideways, eyes nervously flipping in all directions,
Burrows
back
into the sand once the waters recede to return.
Not
a soul, not
an animal, wandered upon this lonely listless strip of shore,
The
gentle wind
tossed stray pieces of paper, cloth, weeds and more.
The
curved
horizon yonder seen, a puff of smoke, is it a ship passing?
Anxious
moments
pause, but then, it's only a fluff of a broken fleeing cloud.
Paradise
Gained,
Paradise Lost, is just a kaleidoscope glimpse of life beyond,
Screaming
voices, tangled nets, floating containers, thunderous waves resound.
Contrasting
post
Christmas morn, the storm now with a shattering silence,
The
aftermath, a
legacy of embedded brokeness, scattered to the winds.
A
stifled sob
from a mother, a broken father, a breath held back in remorse resound,
Missing
a child,
a fleeting thought of hope to recover back from beyond.
A
choice to have
been made to leave a gripped hand that once held tight in joy, now
fright,
To
save a life,
but which one, to pick the love and pluck it from the heart bound tight.
Dreams,
sporadic
episodes of that one day, time frozen in time to remember and retain,
Looking
back,
fear screaming eyes at the wall of water, once a livelihood, now
slaying.
A
ripple of
laughter, a figurement of play, beckons children back to their sun
basked shore,
But
this is too
short to etch memories in a child's lifetime, time heals, we hope, we
pray.
Recovery,
re-location, words coined today, who but really suffered dearly from
the start,
Hordes
of
ecstatic volunteers came and went, each their flag to hoist, led by
their heart.
Touched
by the
sudden tragedy, help came, some to carry, some to dig, and some to give,
Months
passed, a
few days gone, still finally what is left is the wrecked man's home.
All
around the
world, people were frantically churning out events to collect some
bread,
Many
a good
response blossomed in the early days after, but now it's slowly ebbed.
Man's
memory is
so short, glamour of television, excitement for the moment,
Seeing
all that
the elements had wroth, upon the unwarned man, now forgotten.
Being
ashamed
that some live in luxury while others live in waste, hands stretched
out,
A
packet of rice
thrown out of whirley birds, flooded fields of Nam relived no doubt.
A
message never
passed across, a thousand lives were lost because of indecision,
Now
to rebuild
for those gone by, who is there to claim what their fathers left behind.
Poor
man, in his
ignorance, once more tossed upon the shores of sand,
Strange
it is,
his struggle never ceases to justify his right to life upon his land.
Some
people made
money, who can deny that all is above board, and black and white,
Most
people were
there for those that needed them, but confusion stemmed the aid.
A
Rock Concert,
Cricket or Football Match, a Fashion Show, and many more,
Hollywood,
Bollywood, even Evangelists and God's People are joining by the fore.
Money
flowing,
plans abundantly being produced, really for who really who?
NGO’s,
Governments all capitalizing on the ‘tsunami effect’ around the world.
If
we share a
little of our excess, we can go a long way to help lift a hanging head,
There
are many
children who are homeless, orphans, destitute without a bed.
Jostling
to take
the credit, often the victims are forgotten by the helpers,
Plenty
of funds,
food available, but not a morsel to eat, not reaching most needed.
Who
is in charge
of distributing the items, food, funds collected for the maimed?
Who
is
accounting the accountable so that help is really helpful, not just in
name.
There
are many
‘doing’ and so many ‘doing’, who is really in charge of the ‘done’?
The
areas
affected are so spread over, only God will know who has not received.
Through
the
dense jungles, denuded islands, black marshy lands, a corpse or two,
Still
is being
found decomposed, quickly buried, never to discover really it was who.
Harsh
reality of
that fateful day, when a hand that rocked a cradle, ploughed a field,
Pulled
in a net,
fed a hungry mouth, voices that sung a lullaby, suddenly stilled.
The
land has
shifted, the seas risen, islands lost and found, people returning home,
Where
is home?
Where is my neighbour? Where is my life? Some in a daze roam.
Resettling
the
old, unsettling the lost, fear is something that has been experienced,
This
is causing
it to return, justice, care, love, curbing the unscrupulous, the answer.
Much
is said and
much is done, and we need to thank those who are in the front still,
Time
has come to
mend our ways and look ahead for a better tomorrow, a life to fill.
The
‘Shattering
Stillness’ has rekindled in man, the spirit that he is dependable,
Tomorrow
is not
just another day in life, but something that we need to thank God for!
Ronnie Johnson, 8th
February – 11th March , 2005
(This is being written so that the victims of the December 26,
2004 Tsunami are not forgotten as is so often the case. It is
appreciated that many of the NGO agencies have come forward to help and
in no way does it reflect on them, but more so for the many who have
flourished in the sudden quick-silver fund gathering efforts, taking
those generous donors for a ride. We have seen for example in India
many of the agencies that came forward to help in the Gujarat quake
never sent what they collected to the unfortunate victims who are till
date still struggling to make a living. Presumably this happens all
over the world and is nothing new. Awareness of those unscrupulous few
needs to be made known.)
Return to Benny
Hinn Choir Page
Return to Ronnie's
Bangalore Home Page
Return to "Shattering
Silence", the Poem
dedicated to the Tsunami Victims