Hurricane Melissa: The Calculated Catastrophe

BLACK PEARL

SPECTRUM WAVE PUBLISHING

SPECTRUM WAVE MUSIC ENT.

This was not anyone’s imagination.

She was the cyclops who opened all

Four of her eyes, by everyone's surprise, were preparatory

She did not form over warm Atlantic waves by chance.

She was conjured from data, given a lethal dance.

Her eye was a perfect, predatory ring of cold,

Her rain bands were razors, her story foretold.

First, she made landfall in Haiti.

She found the hills already scarred, the earth already frail.

She did not bring wind; she brought a tsunami of mud.

Entire villages—Gonaïves, Jacmel—were swallowed in a thud.

The statistical report, cold and neat:

8,500 confirmed souls are missing in the concrete-silt sheet.

Not just deaths, but erasures.

A schoolhouse with 200 children became a mass grave engineered by pressures.

300,000 instantly homeless, a number so vast,

Living in a slurry of the present and past.

Then, she pivoted to Cuba.

Here, her tool was not mud, but the sea itself.

A storm surge, 30 feet high, a watery shelf.

It did not flood Havana; it scoured it clean.

The Malecón was shattered, a skeletal scene.

Colonial plazas became salt-water tombs,

As the power grid drowned in the engineering rooms.

The death toll, officially, was 3,200,

But the true devastation was in the aftermath’s hour:

1.2 million without shelter, without a dry bed,

A nation of engineers, left with nothing but dread.

Finally, she settled over Jamaica.

Her method here was water, weight, and wind.

For seven days, she spun and never thinned.

She parked over the Blue Mountains’ sacred spine

And wrung the sky out, line by line.

Forty inches of rain in a week.

The Yallahs River became a roaring, brown streak,

Carrying cars, carrying roofs, carrying hope away.

Landslides peeled the green skin off the day,

Burying communities like Portland Cottage whole.

The death toll was 1,750 on the scroll,

But the homelessness was a pervasive blight:

Every third person is lost in the island’s long night.

For example, A 90-year-old woman, Miss Clémence,

Who had survived dictators and poverty’s expense,

Now slept sitting up in a rusted car,

Her lifetime of photos warping in a jar

beside her on the passenger seat.

Her home was a memory, her street was a mud-slicked beat.

A father, wife, and mother-in-law

Had built a shelter from an abandoned car

To stay warm. He felt hopeless

As he held his beautiful newborn in his arms.

The house had blown down due to the crisis that Melissa

had created. She unapologetically turned her back

. By October 2025, the month that survivors won’t forget.

She was described as a home/ land invader

because she had left a total ( highly cost-effective) mess behind.