The pink of my petals, the sweet scent of my being
For centuries, folks have waited with children in tow
A brilliant morning when fields are suddenly aglow
In Sakura pink that's so gentle and cheerful
In delicate scents so refreshing and wistful
I ready myself for the show's preamble
When the earth suddenly starts to rumble
My parent tree moves in her rooted spot
Around her things starts to slip...soil, rocks
I steal a peek from my cocooned bud
Only to see houses crumble, bridges fall abut
People stumble, tumble out into the streets
Even as the earth heaves, gnarling roads into a twist
A crash here, a loud bang there
Not a scream, as people slowly become aware
Strange, they don't seem very surprised
Or perhaps it is a scene often reprised?
To me, the trembling is very fearsome
Will my mama tree remain standing, wholesome?
Suddenly, my brother-leaves stop shaking
Everything is still... Is something awaking?
In the quiet air I sense danger
Something is looming fierce and in anger!
Look out! The sea is rising!
It is black, it is unusually menacing!
Run! Oh please run away quickly!
Grab the young, grab the elderly!
Head for higher ground!
Or into tall buildings that's strong and sound
But no one hears me, loud as I am in my head
I panic, heart wrenching with impending dread
The waves they come, pounding everything in its path
They float cars, bring in hapless watercraft
The once idyllic village of homes, farms and gardens
Has become a swirl of debris, of mud splinter flotsam
Am I dreaming? Am I asleep?
Is this the image I will forever keep?
It is supposed to be gay, magical
A Hanami-themed celebration, spectacle
A Sakura spring to remember forever!
Like the rising of the sun, every night thereafter!
Of that I've been told: "My son..."
And often I'm then sold: "Yes, son..."
Not this! Not this kind of deceiving
I close an eye, the other eye disbelieving
Oh, so much has been torn, lost
So much now lay broken, tossed
Oh, where are the people to sing
The praises of my pretty pinkish being?
Or will they marvel instead
At my less than perfect head
That that strange radioactive cloud
Will eventually over time wrought
Air that can change skin
A body needing an iodide rinse
I retreat into my bud a little afraid
Will it protect my tear-laden head?
My brother-leaves in sympathy droop
In unison, they me try to soothe
"The seasons will come, the seasons will go.
Sorrow will not last as long as we have each other to hold."
I fall asleep and begin to dream
Perchance next spring will all be redeemed?
- by TC Lai
Note: This poem was first written on the 29th of March 2011, some two and a half weeks after the Great Japan North-east Disaster. May all who perish rest in peace. May those who survive feel not alone and rise from their needs!
Next: All I'll Ever Need (A Valentine's Day Poem)
