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Poem

As I stand here with nothing
but the clothes on my back
looking at all the devastation,
all the hurt and loss,
trying to process
how, what, why
now what?
With dirt and mud
On my face and hands
Trying to process,
Process!
How do I begin to process?
Emotions 
Flood my being.
Flood, just like the water 
Up to my ankles, knees, thighs, waist
How?
I stand there looking,
Death and destruction
As far as my eyes can see.
I know that even in the midst of chaos,
This chaos, my chaos
I will sing praises to My God, My Father,
Because I know He said that He would never leave me.
Just a whimper of praise escapes my throat, my mouth and lips.
Just a small wimpy sound.
A sound of desperation, 
With tears filling my eyes,
The eyes that see, yet not wanting to see.
The pain and heartbreak that my soul feels,
Yet I feel numb, 
Questioning, yet not.
Process!
All the years of seeing the devastation in other places.
Yet not believing I could be touched,
Yet here, now, why, 
Am I allowed to ask?
Why me?
Why now?
Why Here?
Is no one immune to this kind of hurt, pain, agony?
How do I continue, how do we continue?
As a person, as a people, as a community.
I do feel a sense of…
I will continue.
I will rise up.
I will start to sing.
I do have a voice despite the pain and agony.
I will stand up despite the feeling of being crushed.
I WILL PROCESS !!!

© Deborah Seale

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