The vapors are the feet
of the angry gods
that uproot the trees,
stamp down our houses,
and tear the rocks
which are the stronghold
of our islands.

Their visits leave a voice
that stirs the seas,
gives birth to waves
to do violence
to the fragile fishermen
in their pumpboats
and to the proud ships,
drowning the fears
of cargoes and passengers
in unspeakable darkness.

Their visits offer
the furious breath to the ground
that sends off silent sands
to hurt and blind our eyes
and the same breath precipitates
and turns our islands
into another sea
of cold and death.

We don`t want the visits
of these angry gods
if only they succeed
to render us
homeless and desolate!

We claim for heaven`s justice
to save, for the Mighty Hand,
that calms the tempest.
And so we raise
our voice in revolt
as to who opened
the gate for the visits
of these angry gods?

But there is silence only...

For the only door
that is left
is a call for a Mighty Hand,
of the Compassionate God,
and for the hands
of men and women
to turn the anger
of these gods into love.

And the waters come raging
like a month-long monsoon
spreading their fury in minutes
and seconds,making busy streets
of shops and houses into
deep sea of mud and graves.

And the waters come raging
like a giant thief in the night
unwanted, unexpected
stamping down on trees,
animals, cars and humans
flushing them out like
manure to a tunnel without light.

And the waters come raging
with the screams and cries
of the stranded on rooftops
the tears of those who cannot
save and find their loved ones,
the prayers of those who wait
until the fury of the waters
should calm down and subside

We have danced tango in exploiting the earth
We stamp our feet as we move to explore
the whole dancing space on the stage
We only look into the gaiety in our own eyes
as we seek to declare ourselves the winner 
in our mastery of the magical move of our body
We explore the mother earth,making believe
that the whole stage is ours to exploit without limit. 

With the rhythm of our tango dance
we create  atom bombs and other weapons
for the countless crowd, we choke the trees,
plants and animals with our inventions
and chemicals, we stuff our water and air
with poison and carbon  from our own hands.
We continue to dance our tango dance
claiming that the whole stage is ours.

And we dance and dance our tango
until music ceases to be replayed
for the mother earth announces
that our own dance and music
choke her to death and our tango on
the great stage cannot at all continue.

(written the 17th of October, 2009, needs final revision)

Islands North of Bohol

I`d like to paint you now at the break of day
when the sea is calm and the breeze sings a melody.
You are islands in the Pacific linked by the ocean blue
miles and miles of distance bridged by man`s ingenuity.

On your waves you set the boats afloat
winged by paddles, sails or horse-powered engines.
On your grounds, you set the coconut trees to root,
hallmark of ancestors who sew seeds to bear fruits.

On your seafloor you create the habitat of seaweeds,
corals and fishes, seashells,sea urchins and eels,
rocks and pearls, priceless worth of treasures
for your dearly beloved to feast and live on.

How come you`re not on the map?
How come you are simple nameless dots?

Remote from the industrial boom, your beauty stands
which I don`t want the irresponsible tourism to pluck.
You are remote from the dust and smoke as price
for what they call the technological period of our time.

In the morning I arise to behold you once again
Feeling the humble hearts of your people in your bosom
Flashing the colors and images of events in my mind
You, the islands in the north, have much a story to tell.

I am leaving now for another land
But I would like to come back to you
to behold you once again and to come again
with the written stories of your life in my hand.



PS:
(Written on the boat as I left the Philippines for Denmark)

Images child weeps on

A child weeps on
the bamboo floor
while mother
looks at the empty pot.

Father comes home
from the storm
stooping
like his lonely boat.

 

Remembering Tsunami

( 230,000 or more)

 

Five years ago the giant waves ruled the shores

At a wink of an eye they came roaring like hungry gluttons

snatching children, men and women and sweeping them out

into the great abyss of darkness in their hungry bellies.

 

Five years ago the giant waves ruled the ocean

sending revolting tremors from the India sea floor

making their fury known in the near and far flung regions

sinking boats and ships with passengers drowned by fear.

 

Five years ago the giant waves ruled the cities

No man-made devices succeeded to halt their invasion

They came roaring, revolting and sweeping everything out

into the abyss of the unknown, encountering no fight or struggle.

 

And the world watched these giant waves ruling the shores

And the world watched these giant waves ruling the ocean

And the world watched these giant waves ruling the cities

And the world counted the lives lost under this reign of terror.

 

December 26, 2009 (EPO)

 

 

 

 

Tsunami and the Angel of Death You spread your wings and cover the earth with the claws of your fingers You touch the bottom of the Indian Ocean and unleash your fury to many lands. The waters, the source of life, become the bosom of death The fishes miss their homes Children, men and women, tourists and local inhabitants lose their names and like garbage they are dumped into mud and mass graves. Your strange visit at Christmas time sends a revolting shock that gives birth to unbearable anguish and pain and those who remain cannot hide from the shadows of your wings. And yet the waves of destruction you create resonate waves of compassion that enable each one to shed a tear and offer a helping hand. ______________ copyright, Elizabeth Padillo Olesen written January 6, 2005, fews days after Tsunami Tsunami raged with fury, the 26th of December 2004.

 Long Winter

 

The heaven empties her bosom

droplets of snowflakes, falling

Mountains of snow, blocking.

 

 

Late Spring

 

The frozen road stands silent

The birds lament, bereft of food

The ground, a pregnant mother

deprived to give birth to flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

From Haiti to Chile

Mother Earth Runs Amok

 

Mother earth runs amok

Running earthquake from Haiti

to Chile, sending tsunamis

to the islands in the Pacific seas.

 

Boats in wharfs and coastlines

are smashed like small toys

Houses fall, flattened in ruins

like cards made of papers.

 

Mother earth runs amok

and we cry as helpless babes

No longer secure if ever

She would pick us up

with her loving arms.

 

Mother earth runs amok

What have we done

to ignite her raging fury? 

 

 

February 28, 2010

The Icelandic Volcano

 

Such a beauty to the eye

Of immense height

That blends in the sky!

 

Like a sleeping princess,

She dances with mankind

In their waking and sleeping. 

 

But in a shining April

2010  in a budding spring time

she vomits her lava and smoke.

 

Strangely enough, her beauty

Ejects fire and black smoke

that suffocate the sky

 

Thousands of flights are halted

Passengers are stranded.

Flight companies lose their assets.

 

Who can determine that

Such an immense beauty

Can prick us all to fear

the fury of  mother  nature?

 

The 2oth of April, the sixth day after the eruption of the volcano in Iceland, handicapping the European travel agencies and reviving fear in the travelling passengers. 63,000 flights, cancelled and millions of euro currencies are lost each day. (EPO)