Of Death, Destruction, and Beauty

She came in soaking wet,
for it was raining outside.
"The strongest typhoon
in history,"
they called it,
and thank heavens
it made landfall
on another part
of the archipelago,
way down south.

The woman approached
the receptionist,
who informed her
that the doctor
would see her next,
as soon as he was done
with his current patient.

So she sat herself down
on a couch in the lobby,
while a news broadcast
showed scenes of destruction,
as the strongest typhoon
in history
decimated the southern cities
live on national television.

She was slightly anxious,
as this was the first time
she would be going under
a surgical blade.
She began fiddling
with her nose,
touching the bridge,
feeling it in
its natural state
for the last time.
Then she put
her hand in her bag,
fiddling the thick wad of cash
she withdrew from an ATM machine.

As she was counting the money,
making sure she had enough
for her noselift,
her eyes had become glued
to the television screen,
where she saw entire city streets
reduced to rubble,
despair and desolation
on people's faces, and
not a single smile on anyone,
corpses strewn everywhere
like debris,
waiting to be collected
by street cleaners
who would never come.

When the receptionist announced that
the doctor would be seeing her now,
the lobby was already empty.
The woman had left,
braving the pouring rains
to the nearest drop-off centre,
where she gave her entire
cosmetic surgery budget
as a donation
to the victims of
the strongest typhoon
in history.

Dedicated to the victims of Typhoon Haiyan a.k.a. Yolanda, 8 Nov 2013, Philippines

Sting Lacson

A writer. By degree and by profession. Also strongly advocates ten-finger typing to all writers because that's what you do for a living, so be efficient at it.

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My Literary Side

"The Words come from the Divine; from the Muse the Idea. The Poet merely transcribes." ┼Old Sumerian proverb

(Kidding, I made that up. LOL)