By Shem Onderi
After a night of rainfall
the count of losses was heavy—
many, almost beyond measure.
Debris of fallen stalls lay scattered,
and houses bore the brunt
of the raging waters.
Pillars once thought strong
were left weak and trembling.
Dirt clogged every holding strand,
yet the water rushed south,
swift and unstoppable.
City dwellers and shop owners
felt the rain in equal measure.
The weak in muscle
were swept along by the current.
Floodwaters found no path in loose sand;
they raced across concrete,
into homes
where rivers had once flowed decades ago—
old waterways reborn.
The garage was not spared.
And who now will repair
the drowned locomotives of the road?
Downstream,
sewage and clean water mingled freely.
Perhaps the downfall was foreseen.
The planners failed their calling—
or perhaps the water
simply knew its path.
For a moment
the city became a death trap;
no guns could save lives.
Residents learned to swim
whether they wished to or not.
Vehicles floated like toys
upon the swollen streets.
Then the rain stopped.
The sun rose again.
And, like always,
we moved on.