Death came in big boots.
He stomped through the city,
Waving his scythe haphazardly.
He didn’t look left, he didn’t look right.
He carried no list, had no purpose
But to shake down walls and scatter dust.
Oh, why do we need this woe?
You stomp us down in your big boots,
We who cannot afford shoes.
You break our backs with our own broken homes,
Strip and tear the fabric of our tattered lives,
Lowest of the low left to cry, moan and cuss.
Man snaps big suspenders
And don’s his face of pity,
But all the money in the world
Can’t bridge the barricades of bureaucracy.
Man in his Godless arrogance
Once again is at the feet of nature’s fury
Trapped between his greed and his mercy.
And Haiti is a quake in history.
And Haiti is the shake of this season.
Some will beat chests and cry for the children.
Some will say it puts life in perspective.
Some will assure us they will never forget.
Some will blame God because they are fools.
Soon all will ask, “hey anything good on TV tonight?”
Next year some poet will write, “Somewhere 2011”.
Illustration: News Photo Source unknown