feeling Helpless For the Helpless People

Feeling Helpless For the Helpless People...

After attending the morning prayer
On the Remembrance Sunday,
Having observed two minutes' silence
For our country's war heroes,
We  observed silence for two more minutes
For the thousands of helpless people
Of a distant Eastern country, who perished
In the attack of a deadly typhoon,
And that silence is still glued on my lips...

I listlessly go about my daily routine,
Yet those visuals on the news channels
Of the devastated cities, washed off villages,
Houses reduced to mere heaps of rubble,
Huge tress lying scattered like straws,
Dead people and animals lying like torn dolls...
Oh, God! Switching off the TV doesn't help,
Those visuals follow me along all the day,
In my head I hear the cries,and  the last gasps
Of the helpless people before getting buried alive
Under the rubble or in the merciless mud....
The same story is played out in the restaurant
Where I've come for lunch with my beau,
And on visualizing that vile mud spread on my salad,
I get up and rush out in a huff,
My beau follows and asks me,"Why?"
But then understands and takes me in his arms,
And whispers,"baby, please don't cry,
We too are helpless like those unfortunate people
Whom we can't help much beyond  silent prayers."

-Portia Burton