In the wake of Helene, where the waters rose high,
Homes turned to ruins beneath a darkened sky.
The winds howled a warning, yet silence prevailed,
Promises whispered, but hope often failed.

The streets now lie empty, once bustling with life,
Families shattered, enduring the strife.
Where are the leaders with plans strong and true?
In the shadows they linger, while we’re lost in the blue.

The shelters are crowded, the hearts heavy still,
Yet the halls of decision seem void of goodwill.
Pledges of aid turn to echoes in air,
As the people grow weary, stripped bare of their care.

The cries of the children, the elders in need,
Are drowned by the chatter of those who concede.
“Tomorrow,” they say, “we’ll rise from the pain,”
But tomorrow feels distant, like a whisper in rain.

Rebuilding is more than just wood and some nails,
It’s hope in our hearts where compassion prevails.
Yet the leaders who promised have vanished from sight,
Leaving dreams in the rubble, consumed by the night.

So here we stand, weary, but not without fight,
For together we’ll rise, and we’ll claim back the light.
Though the storm may have taken, it cannot erase,
The strength of our spirit, our unyielding grace.

Let us hold them accountable, let our voices be heard,
For a nation reborn must be built on its word.
In the shadows of Helene, we’ll forge a new way,
For justice and healing, for brighter days.