A special poem dedicated for Yolanda survivors.

•••

When Haiyan struck, darkness ascent,

Night and day were no different.

With the sun no longer confident,

Shadows of despair was present.

Screams you'd hear in the dead of night,

Horrible cries of corpse out of sight.

Stench of regret of those who want to fight,

Mourn in the air as it took flight.

But in the horizon when the sun rose,

Reflected the dead with their final pose.

Terror in their open eyes, froze on their toes,

The raging waves were indeed their final foes.

Not a place you'd see stood tall,

All bowed in the bout of fall.

The wealth and treasure in the hall,

Stained by mud, now useless like a ball.

On the flood paper bills you'd see,

Now invaluable next to the remaining tree.

Could not even suffice as a fee,

Hungry stomach it could not set free.

Here come the cries of those who survived,

Existing they were but whose soul unalive.

Not only were they to light deprived,

Relief and glee were late to arrive.

To steal in the mall they desperately did,

Grab hold of food to hunger get rid.

Uncaring of things that fuel greed,

To survive the day's their being in need.

Next to living death was merely nothing,

Not when the aftermath morphed into a terrible being.

Every priced trophy was crushed where they're standing,

They and their life's the only thing existing.

Piles of trash you'd see everywhere you look,

Tacloban turned into a ghostly nook.

Man and woman before it shook,

Might in there be a corpse to rebuke.

Darkest of times it really was,

Death and life suffered thus.

Where there was not a mass,

Who didn't fear the storm when it pass.