The wind rips the Rock like a saw through timber.
Rain forms in broad sheets carried on great gales.
In Okinawa cyclone blown, racked but limber.
Prepare, batten down hatches and trim the sails.
The sun has gone missing, swallowed in gray skies.
Water spouts twirl a devil’s dance in the sea.
Like Habu hissing, debris through air flies.
Typhoon has come, breaking boughs and twisting trees.
Typhoon has come, howling wind won’t let you be.
Typhoon has come with rain so heavy you cannot see.
The storm imprisons the calm and will not set it free.
Has God forsaken thee?
Sweet, peaceful Okinawa caught in the Hellish path
Of Mother Nature’s wrath.
Storm-bound hidden from roaring winds and rain,
Get numb drunk and feel no pain.
Typhoon season is here.
Will it be a bad one this year?
With many fierce storms to fear?
I pray not.
I composed this poem during a Typhoon that hit Okinawa in the summer of 2003. The tropical island is hit with 5 to 7 typhoons a year, and the typhoon season is generally from June to October.