The Tsunami

Ancestral wisdom spoke in glowing prose

Of you, provider of old- and now, of grief
I thought I understood your ways

But pieces of our trust are strewn everywhere
Fragments that lap up to the shore

And even those are rare.
Did your noisy betrayal drown out our despair?
Or did my screams provoke your wicked ways?
I return as you must have known I would,
Broken, afraid...of what you have become:
A silent guardian of my children's grave.