Lord of the storm, spare Kingston’s unkempt port,
spare Spanish Town and even Montego Bay.
Open your eye only on empty sea.
Let vessels reach their quays unscathed, and lashings
never snap. Let shantytowns stay roofed,
and coconuts not cannonball through walls.
Almighty, if it pleases you to rip
the tamarinds with sheets of windblown tin
and whip the alleyways with sparking wires,
if afterward a plague of flies and boils
afflicts the islanders, vouchsafe them faith
that they may bury their dead, build anew,
watch for cyclones, yet believe in You.
— Alan Sullivan
Photo by Marc Babin on Unsplash. Image cropped.
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Centesimus Annus at Thirty-Five
Thirty-five years ago, Pope John Paul II issued his most developed social encyclical, Centesimus Annus; its title…
Why Me?
I visited a friend of mine a few years ago. He was a deeply faithful theologian, but without…
The Wrongness of Human Death
Decay and death seem built into the structure of physical creation. Even if there could be a…
