Remembering 3.11.11

TGIF, I made my way to the convenient store, with no thought of what the short journey had in store. Spring was getting ready to blossom, I could feel the warmth of the sun caressing my face with pinches of winter still in the air.

(Rumble Ghostly Roar) the only way to describe the sound from the earth, then a violent shake made it hard to walk much less stand, a greyed man shouted “come to the parking lot” it was safer there, we watched as light poles danced around like being strung by a giants thumb.

I thought the earth would crack open and swallow us like a whale eating a school of fish, living in the land of the rising sun we were familiar with the shakes but this one was unlike the tremors I slept through many twilights

3 weeks later, I volunteered in Miyagi prefecture, one of the hardest hit areas by the quake and tsunami

As we arrived on the scene of atomic destruction the first thing that caught my heart was a teddy bear muddied amongst flipped cars and pieces, piles, perched, wood and concrete from houses unknown, the smell in the air was of rotting fish and stale sludge sea water.

We couldn’t do much but did what we could, we cleared debris from homes of the survivors who lost countless family members and friends, their faces blank but smiles at times. We walked offering our hands , and our hearts. We found thousands of yen in the muck but circumstances would not call it luck.

We bought nourishments and had a bbq under the moon light for the community, in times like this it’s all about love and unity, at times the tremors could be felt, thought on minds, will another wave be sent.....

On March 11. 2011 a disastorous earthquake and tsunami hit the Tohoku area in Japan. The above poem is my experience. I have been living in Japan for the last 11 years. At the time of the quake, many foreigners left Japan. Not me, or my friends who volunteered. The order and unity that I saw during the disasters showed me that the Japanese people are truly amazing. Good bless all who were affected by this disaster.

poetry level: intermediate
pics are my own.