because cataclysm is not its name

deluge has brought this mass of mud
and let the sea of our grief surge
but cataclysm is not its name;
gaze at it, scrutinize its face
and trace the fount of our tears:

houses resembling broken ribs,
crumbled walls and tangled trees,
clothes and toys strewn far and wide,
stoves, tv sets, cars in mire buried deep;
cataclysm is not its name.

without warning, it came gushing,
everything it touched, it crushed; nothing
was spared, all over spreading torrents of fear.
gaze at it, scrutinize its face
and trace the fount of our tears.

listen to the lamentation, look at the corpses;
cataclysm is not its name.
let us call it tiny plastic wrap
or an empty can we threw at the ditch;
cataclysm is not its name.

let us call it malls and subdivisions eating
the land where rivers should freely flow,
let us call it wastes spewed out
by local and foreign industrial plants;
cataclysm is not its name.

let us call it forests denuded
by loggers in the congress, in the senate,
let us call it mountains blasted
by mining firms sanctified by laws;
cataclysm is not its name.

gaze at it, scrutinize its face
and trace the fount of our tears.
it is the public coffer plundered
by politicians crook and corrupt;

let us then call it insatiable greed,
let us then call it unpardonable neglect;
because cataclysm is not its name.

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