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Sitting in the recliner her family
brought so she wouldn't have to
sleep on a cot, she wonders.
How long will she be here?
How long will the storm last?
How long before the power goes out,
or the oxygen goes off, or the food
runs out while they wait it out.

Lying on the cot, the dirty cot,
wearing his four-day-old dirty
clothes, watching the others in
their dirty clothes on their dirty cots.
When will the wind stop howling?
When will the rain stop pounding?
When will the silence stop echoing
through the gym as no one talks,
only listens to the storm rage on.

Hiding in a classroom away from
the others, she ponders her puppies
and where they may be now.
Where were they taken?
Where are they getting food?
Where will they be when she
herself finally leaves the
shelter after the storm has passed.

Listening to the snoring of the
other shelter workers, she stares
into darkness wondering.
Why is she here?
Why is her family at home?
Why does she need to lie on
an air mattress with others,
all alone, to wait out the storm.

Rushing home after the storm
has passed to see the damage, 
assess the world outside the shelter.
What to do with all the debris?
What to say if you've lost it all?
What to think when you get to
go home and the shelter worker
stays, to clean up the mess
left by you, and the storm.

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