Trial of the Lilithite - 4/7

The ships hit land at my command
My orders good and loud,
Finally free from weeks at sea,
We rushed off in a crowd.

Tucker chose some men from those
Who served aboard his fleet,
And as their boss, bid giant cross
Stand high above the street.

They drove it down, and named the town
For their beloved priest,
Measured some, and set it plumb,
And planned a lavish feast.

Such celebration -- affectation,
Dancing, wine and song;
Yet in my gut dwelt maddening rut:
Something very wrong.

The inital breeze, from off the seas
Was pleasant, barely cold,
But picked up steam, and with a scream
Came fierce and uncontrolled.

Lacking shelter, helter-skelter,
Fleeing from the storm,
Windows shattered, equipment scattered
As air grew still and warm.

Aboard I stayed, cold and afraid,
And tried to stay unseen;
With widened eyes, I watched the skies
Turn bright, ethereal green.

Yet with a roar, there came yet more --
A massive hurricane
Tore through our camps, blew out the lamps,
With no intent to wane.

Then came a wall, a half-mile tall,
A great and pow'rful wave;
Then came the flood -- turned land to mud,
And dozens met their grave.

From hidden hole (by my own soul),
What came next scarred me deep:
Soaked and wispy came the gypsy;
And vengeance would she reap.

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