It is March 11th, two thousand and eleven,
So many in Japan are now in heaven…
I close my eyes and listen for souls,
So many have lost their hand to hold…
The earth was shaken in a natural way,
As we watch in awe with nothing to say…
There are cars, boats, trucks and trains,
Painting the picture of so much pain…
The power of water as it rushes in,
Erasing generations of family and kin…
With nothing left but sticks and stone,
And nowhere to go without a home…
Mother and child are torn apart,
She is crying out and pounding her heart…
The steps to their home somehow remain,
They lead to sorrow and overwhelming pain…
The old and the wise keep a steady pace,
They are true survivors of this human race…
They pray to God that the dead are free,
Carving chopsticks out of Bamboo Debris…
River Michaels
March 15, 2011
This poem is dedicated to all of the people in Japan and to the resilience of the human spirit. My heart, thoughts, and prayers are with the people of Japan. May God bless them and ease their pain.

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