“...Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire
Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.”
In roar and surge of voracious vowels...
of meteoric metaphors, of swirling similes,
come the journalist, the editor,
the TV and radio reporter.
But speaks for itself – a solitary picture;
silent, yet enlightening. A woman –
swathed in woollen blanket
by the ocean’s edge...
at her feet, all around, as far as the eye
can see, debris of what used to be
a thriving, bustling village;
Swept away; husband, children, friends.
Only listen to the whisper of a tear
on her cheek, and the shadow
of the word, unsaid...
in God's name, “Why?”