After the Deluge, by Stephen Gerringer for JCF

Then by the will of Hurakan, the Heart of Heaven, the waters were swollen, and a
great flood came upon the mannikins of wood. They were drowned and a thick
resin fell from heaven…

Because they had not thought on Hurakan, therefore the face of the earth grew
dark, and a pouring rain commenced, raining by day and by night …

Then ran the mannikins hither and thither in despair. They climbed to the roofs of
the houses, but the houses crumbled under their feet; they tried to mount to the
tops of the trees, but the trees hurled them from them; they sought refuge in the
caverns, but the caverns closed before them. Thus was accomplished the ruin of
this race, destined to be overthrown. - Popol Vuh, First Book (tr. Lewis Spence)

*
I pen these words barely a week after Hurricane Katrina slammed into the Gulf Coast,
uprooting over a million people, leaving hundreds of thousands homeless, tens of
thousands stranded, and unknown hundreds dead. Most Americans, cast involuntarily in
the role of passive participants, watched this tragedy unfold with the same sense of slowmo
horror, helplessness, and fatalistic fascination we experience in that instant before
cars collide, transfixed by the seemingly endless stream of devastation, suffering, and
death broadcast twenty-four hours a day.

For those of us outside the affected area, the images of anguish, grief, and loss are surreal
and almost unfathomable in their magnitude, evoking empathy, compassion, and grief of
our own.

But for those in Katrina’s path, particularly residents of New Orleans and the Mississippi
delta, those who have lost family, friends, homes, and livelihood, it’s the apocalypse.

"The only word I have to describe this is biblical." -unidentified rescue worker