Hurricane

The hurricane hits America,

After it hits Haiti and the Bahamas and Jamaica and Cuba,

And as I watch it on my television,

A swirling white cloud, it is killing people,

Flooding cities, destroying homes, and

Shutting down power,

And I check the airlines,

Again, before telling my sons,

That their father, who is deployed, to Italy,

For a week, how his flight is canceled, and

He cannot come home, for at least one more week.

We are lucky, I tell them, two days later,

As I dress them up, in costumes,

For Halloween, lucky because the hurricane did not hit us,

Because we still have power, still have our house,

And lucky because we are still alive,

And I tell myself the same thing,

I am lucky, as I walk down these dark streets,

Streets that slink and cross over one another,

Like snakes, watching children run across grass,

From house to house, ringing doorbells, and how,

When no one answers, they say,

I know they are in there.

And I am thinking about all of us,

These children, here, swimming

In the darkness of an American street,

The children somewhere else wading

Through waist high flood water, and

All the children of war,

Walking through a sea of dead bodies

Just to get drinking water, or a woman

In Santiago, holding a child on a roof,

Waiting for help to come before the water does,

The woman in Kandahar holding a child to her chest,

Bloody, dead, and hers,

And me, standing here, lucky,

In the middle of street, holding a flashlight,

And shining it, across this darkness,

Like a searchlight.

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One Response to Hurricane

  1. john werneken says:

    The Flashlight might be powered by God’s Love. Thank you, what you say is so true, and it is hard to learn. Maybe the real life meaning of ‘no pain, no gain’.

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