After the Hurricane
AFTER THE HURRICANE
After the hurricane, usually,
so little’s left behind.
The winds, winds, the howling winds,
keep howling … in my mind.
Inconceivable, I’m not dead,
somehow, someway, alive
Must get going and start searching,
other souls … help revive
Winds were tossing roofs here and there,
trees were stripped of their bark.
When trapped in tangled rubble,
felt … naked, bare, and stark.
Excruciating to look around,
no sounds of life can hear.
The vastness of destruction,
Is far away … and near.
After the hurricane, dear God,
who’ll help helpless survive?
Ordinary folks who become,
earth angels … in disguise.
November 13, 2020
After the Hurricane, contest sponser Craig Comish
Copyright © Barbara Barry-Nishanian | Year Posted 2020
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