Tsunami Tribute--A Message of Hope
I had never seen such power. The ground shook itself free of the beings that it had allowed to comb over it. The water roared its voice hoarse, for it felt our pain, though it caused it. The wind searches through the masses looking for any trace of survivors. Even now I wonder what it thinks. Is it laughing at our follies? Or is it crying with the rest of the world?
I am not one for answers; I am only one of the thousands that lie waiting in the mud praying someone will find me. But then what? A voice asks me as I rub mud from my eyes. You have no home. You have no clothes. You have nothing that you once did.
I have my life. I reply mentally, though knowing my life was only a dream. How did we not see it? I felt the waters shake. I saw the ground rumble. I tasted the salty tears of the oceans. I watched as the water waved its claws and pulled the screaming children to the grave it had prepared. I cried in fear as the building tumbled upon my body.
Will they help us? Who? Who will help us? And why should they? None of us have any way to repay them. None of us have anything to give them. Will the great nations of the world give us their aid? Or will they turn their backs on us as we justly deserve? Because we are of a different race and culture and we have nothing that can compare to their lives.
I have hope—though it is fleeting. My arm is broken and I can’t feel my legs. Still, I have hope, for there is a breath in my lungs. The wind strokes my battered face, cooling my fevered body. The moon has risen high in the night sky as a beacon for the world to see that time goes on. Stars twinkle and shoot mischievously with one another not caring who watched. They are my hope and my light.
I hear them. My whole body screams in pain as I lift my head. The whirling sound of air meets my numb ears. After all the silence, a pounding of noise threatens to deafen me. I see them before they land. I see them run towards me, clad in their green suits with a bright red-white-and-blue flag painted on their helmets. Tears blind my eyes and add salt to the mud.
They grab me and carry me to their machine. Hot water pours down my throat and gentle hands run warmth to my cold body. I am alive and safe, I think over and over and I dare myself to sleep. I smile at my dreams and welcome the hope of a new dawn.