And swept away all my belongings
And shook my fortitude to the core.
I clung to a reed that seemed so small,
Oh! But how strong it was, how mighty strong,
How deluded was I to think a simple reed was weak.
The hurricane had me standing naked,
My clothes flying about with not a soul to watch
My helpless grappling of a bamboo reed.
It must have been hours, it must have been days,
Weeks or months or years and the hurricane passed;
The silent gentle breeze was deafening.
All about me were piles of rubble and dirt
And muck and corpses and after an era I felt the warm sun,
Seeing the belongings of those gone broken, strewn about.
I was tired, I was famished, I had fought so hard,
I carried my weary feet where must lie
The rubble of my erstwhile house.
It must have been an era when I reached
To find my home intact with my wild garden
Designed; all thanks to a weak bamboo reed.
Was my life spared because my home awaits
A delicious supper, a beautiful new slate
On which I write soulful songs for those gone by so long?
Even to this day my heart does shudder
When I think about the day the hurricane came,
A strong song I sing, I utter words of hope and love; I elate
All thanks to a simple reed I may have trampled at play on a bright day.
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