There wasn’t room for sympathy, the epicentre moved too rapidly for that and even when we knew the anger of the dispossessed the storm had passed.
It blew into their lives already stressed by large events with precedents that rose from dark and baleful incidents beyond the wildest stretch of their naïve imagination.
Ululation for the recent dead resounded through the canvas tents that formed in ragged lines amongst the devastation, the remnants of their island nation.
Piled upon a shattered beach the living dead had listened listlessly to those who preach, their eyeless faces turned to seek the truth, a worthy explanation, but none would come and lift them in their desolation.
We left them to their solitude, we left them to pursue another foe whose spoor we’d seen descending, we left them promising that we’d return but knew the truth without them comprehending.