Author's Note: This poem is an extended metaphor, which means that the events in the fictional setting alludes to the tsunami that struck much of South Asia and a part of Africa on the day after Christmas in 2004. The cause of the real one was an earthquake measuring a magnitude of 8.9 on the Richter scale in Indonesia. Our thoughts and prayers are with the victims and families of the real disaster.

In you, Poreo Bay,

Memories there are alive and well,

My mother bore me in your heart,

The hustle and bustle of La Ciudad Morado,

Your largest city.

I first received my education,

Then I graduated from your prominent

La Universidad Del Corazón Sagrado,

And I moved away to Puerto Tacaño,

And I hoped to return to you,

In the New Year

But the terrorist troop,

Las Terroristas de Chaco,

They detonated a bomb,

On a deserted island,

Fifteen miles from you,

The island exploded,

Causing numerous waves to approach your vast coast,

Three stories high.

Now you are wounded by the waves,

Many edifices are annihilated,

People are displaced in tents,

Streets are inundated and brimming with debris,

What have they done to you,

My beloved home of my childhood?

Thousands of your people are inanimate,

And many more are injured,

The New Year is fast approaching,

Would you replace parties with prayers?

Would you shelve the pyrotechnics and celebrations?
Would you hold candlelight vigils and memorial Masses for the dead?

Now your tropical paradise,

The fishing lure of tourists everywhere,

It turned into a nightmare,

Ecstasy turned into anarchy,

People crying and bawling in grief,

They lost their homes,

They mislaid their relatives and friends,

How would they usher in the New Year

Without your sprightly glitz?

How can I return to you at the termination of the year?

None of this would have happened to you

If you warned your people in advance,

You should have notified your people to evacuate,

Now my childhood memories are ruined,

My old home is in remains of rubble and wood,

I mislaid the home I used to live in my years of my upbringing.

Let everyone provide aid to you,

But the moneyed city of Puerto Tacaño,

Is what the city is illustrated in its name,

Stingy and selfish.

I must tell the mayor of the city,

We must nosh the hungry,

Quench the thirsty,

And we should cure the ill,

I want my city to alter its name,

We should rename it Puerto Generoso.


The New Year will help you rebuild your communities,

May you recover from your wounds caused by the precarious waves,

The altitude of three-stories-tall buildings,

May you find a much-improved prospect in you,

May you find harmony in you,

The soon-to-be ex-Puerto Tacaño and I will rally round you,

Our prayers are with you,

My Poreo Bay of my soul.