August Come It Must

 

 

August come it must

But it already did!

Hurricane Beryl, I mean,

And she didn’t kid.

 

On the 1^st July

She was not on standby

But with some ferocity

She let her winds fly.

 

Too soon in June

She had started up,

A category 4 before landfall

Promising a bitter cup.

 

 

And a bitter cup it was

In the Caribbean,

Union Island and Carriacou

Devastating scenes!

 

 

Announced in June

Long before August,

Its devastation evident in July

Ferocious and robust.

 

Beryl in her rage

Not caring about order,

Mixing up the three months

Tore up our border.

 

But this was good

Compared to another

Where the fallout from Beryl

Is a horrid bother.

 

Years it will take

To fix Beryl’s damage,

But for now, we’ll have to see

What can be salvaged.

 

August come it must

But it already did!

Hurricane Beryl, I mean,

And she didn’t kid.

 

I have a question

Now that August is here,

It is so early in this season

I tremble with fear.

 

What’s on offer

Is my question to August,

Please, not another like Beryl,

She was too rough!

 

 

 

Do notice the plea

And let us join in prayer

Not another like Hurricane Beryl

No, not this year!

 

Stewart Russell © August 1, 2024

 

Serious Responses Only

 

 

I have some questions

I cannot answer,

Maybe you can, my friend,

But no silly banter.

 

Why does it appear

Barbados is always spared

And to other countries

We are compared?

 

Hurricanes come calling

And we get a brush

While others for some reason

Are thoroughly ambushed.

 

 

Union Island is a mess

So too is Carriacou,

St. Lucia, St. Vincent and Jamaica

Just to name a few.

 

What is it we have

That these countries do not

That seemingly protects us

And acts as a block?

 

Do they not pray

Just like Barbadians do

And trust God to shield them

Like He does me and you?

 

Aren’t they His children

Like you and I?

So, why do they suffer such loss

And some even die?

 

I sometimes get a sense

Our time is not far away

And what others have suffered

We’ll experience one day.

 

It is true our fishing fleet

Has taken a bashing

And the storm surge from Beryl

Gave our coasts a lashing.

 

But this is nothing

Compare to elsewhere

Where some have been driven

To their knees in despair.

 

Most without shelter

In some countries

Where Beryl in her fierce anger

Decimated their properties.

 

 

No water at the taps

And no electricity,

Only apocalyptic devastation

And abject misery.

 

What evil did they do

To be deserving of this

While we, on another occasion,

Had a relative miss?

 

Are we better than they

And more often pray?

Do we far more than they do

Walk in God’s way?

 

Is Satan’s evil hand

On them more than on us?

Are they more unrighteous ones there

That have rejected Jesus?

 

 

Jesus had fisher friends

With whom he communed

And on occasions rescued them

From peril and certain doom.

 

Why did he not protect

Our fishermen’s boats

But permit them like driftwood

In the water to float?

 

I refer you to Job

Who had questions too,

Back then he had no answers;

Tell me, do you?

 

Stewart Russell © July 3, 2024