They went to work, visited folks,
tended their farms, and ventured out to play.
They cooked, cleaned, and shopped.
It was nothing extraordinary, just another day.
Until the Heavens broke beneath a veil of darkness,
and the pounding rains came beating down.
Twenty-five inches in just five hours time,
life as they knew it was no where to be found.
Lives that were not stolen in the night
were shattered like shards of broken glass.
Mountains tumbled, and fields became rivers,
devastating a once lush green land mass.
Screams muffled by the river’s roar,
survivors clung to life on roof and trees.
Searching through death and ruin, rescuers
hoped to find life and listened for pleas.
People gathered, prayed, and labored
as sorrowful hearts echoed the torn land.
They buried, salvaged, cleared, and rebuilt.
And the strangers they came, offered a hand.
So much happened in so little time ,
what a difference a day can make-
And when our souls are tested,
it’s amazing how much we can take.
When we have God and community,
upon which to lay our burdens down,
we have a place to plant our roots
that is sturdier and trustier than ground.
Scars upon the mountains, hearts, and souls,
but amongst thorns, flowers still grow.
Through love and courage, the people prevail,
and Nelson is still the home I know.
Sunday Scribblings prompt is “What a difference a day can make”.
****This is written about Hurricane Camille that devasted the county I lived in when I was six years old. This tells the story in my other blog. The photograph above the poem is my husband’s grandfather’s home that was destroyed in the flood.