Diamond (Photos of the Millennium)

It was a busy week when the wave came in,

Half the city was destroyed,

Half of the men didn't show up because they'd lost someone,

Mourning tends to drag down work ethic in that way. 

It was so strange,

Seeing street corners I'd known since I was a child,

Reduced to piles of salt stained rubble. 

We dug through the debris for days,

But rarely found bodies,

Let alone survivors,

We wondered how many had been swept out to sea.

It was on the fourth day,

When our moral was drained, 

And our arms were tired of digging through the building remains, 

That we heard you cry.

I thought it was a trick at first,

But as the other men began to take notice, 

We all jumped up and began to dig. 

When we found you, 

Nestled safely in a pocket just under a few rocks and a piece of ply wood,

You looked untouched,

It was remarkable,

A little diamond in the rough.