Ill-Fated People

“Disaster never comes alone.”

An oldest male in our community

grumbles himself at a corner of the monastery.

The cemetery must built

at the west of the village, as forefathers said,

now all around us, he added.

Though the heavy rain after Cyclone disaster,

disappointedly thanks God for drinking water.

First ever in our live

plenty of firewood around us,

but no lighter or match in the dark.

No food, no shelter

no medicine, no water

no light, no media

no hope, no chance, but only rumours.

In our village, nobody can console each other,

everybody are sad with lost family members.

The youngest daughter, just weaned

crying in the temporary hammock with hunger and fever,

we have no word and nothing to relieve her.

The eldest son with sunken eyes weakly shouting,

“I got the sound helicopters are coming”

pitiful hallucination, his mum whispers

In fact, assembly of flies around corpse very near.

Villagers are sitting at foul smelling beach,

expecting for relief carrying giant ship reach.

The helpers could not approach to us

due to road blockage by

some say uprooted trees,

some say dictator’s heels.

We are no need to blame others,

May our ill-fated be ended here.