Nature—Lord of everything
its blizzards and its droughts
Talking back to a hurricane,
you whisper as it shouts
Your treasured possessions lie in wait
for floods to take away
That rumble heard beneath your feet
to swallow as you pray
Those things you grow and seeds you plant,
the locust comes to claim
As tidal waves begin to form
—you powerless to blame
(The New Room: November,2021)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem