Hurricane Sandy
Sandy stole my words.
Desolation and despair
triumphed
attempts at descriptive
narrative
paled in comparison
to the cold, desolate reality left
behind.
Humvees and police cars patrol
debris clogged streets.
Red and blue emergency lights
strafe empty lots where homes
once stood.
Houses ripped apart,
tilted, torn, gravity defying
structures,
now open vistas to the ocean,
calm today
that last night roared through
and leveled homes
and the playing field between
the haves and have nots.
How can water wreak havoc of
this magnitude.
Unprecedented wave heights
on top of swells
went where they would,
unbridled, uncaring natural
force,
mother nature raging, roaring
not in spite
but because she could,
ran amok
reminding us of her majesty,
her power
and the fact that
there but for the grace of God
we have been privileged to
live.
I can't be mad at the ocean.
It is my life blood.
It courses through my veins,
grounds me, embraces me
unconditionally.
Dark, grey afternoons settle on
our town.
Houses dark since she hit
sit waiting for owners to make
the next move.
Restore the shore
to what?
Glory days of yesteryear
surface in isolated pockets,
quickly erased by scars that
will never heal.
Open wounds on a landscape
trapped
write it off as a once in a
lifetime event
or is Sandy the new norm.
There is a zombie like feeling
waiting in the wings.
Vacant stares, shaking heads
prevail.
Unrestrained optimism battles
resignation.
Fool me once and it's on me,
fool me twice, what then.
This is my home, a living
dream personified.
Sleeping, waking, walking,
loving living exactly where I
dared to dream about so many
years ago.
Time is not healing.
Each passing day another
storm related issue.
Another family lost everything.
Everything.
How do you get your arms
around that.
Where do these people go,
How do you rebuild what was
such a personal extension of
your family history.
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