Walls of brownish bricks,
crumbled at the touch of the wind,
Wind strong enough to pull tick trees out of the soil;
It’s strength cast, and home-walls fall flat to the ground with scattered roofs abroad.
My lids shivered as the dust swiped into the tents of my vision,
Lenses blurred, visuals curved- curved into directions unclear.
Help! Help!! my lips mumbled
Where art thou?; oh people of the city,
Or have thou hidden?- hidden from the reach of the storm that tormented me.