"Waiting and Watching"...an update re-post.

Living at the edge of the marshland just south of New Orleans, I was away from my home for a month following Hurricane Katrina in 2005.  My family and I lived in a FEMA trailer parked next to the remains of our home for a year.  I was happy to have the trailer, formaldahyde and all!

The tsunami that had killed so many and caused so much destruction in Indonesia had occured not long before.  I recall laying with my thoughts in the small bed of the trailer each night, exhausted from a long day of clean-up or rebuilding,  I recall thinking how blessed we were to live in a country that could provide my family and I with these accomodations following a disaster of such magnitude.  As I lay there, I would somethimes think about the people, unknown to me and living half a world away, who had lost everything and everyone they had ever known who were, in all likelihood, at that moment, searching for a scrap of tin or cardboard for shelter.  Again, I want to thank every citizen of the world who helped and continues to help us rebuild our lives.

A bit over a year ago, as Hurricane Dean was meandering around the Southern Gulf of Mexico, I posted a poem here on Gather  Today, as I closely watch the movements of Gustav and Hannah, and as my resident PTSD, which pre-existed and was unrelated to Katrina, but was re-sensitized by the entire drama (not just the events of the storm) flashes incipient signs of desiring to return as ruler my life, I re-post the 2007 poem with some changes to fit the day.  If you choose to read on, thank you in advance.

"Waiting, Watching"

As I watch the distant tempests

now boiling the tropical seas,

my mind fills like a mizzen pulled taught

by a strong, unfortunate breeze.

Into the past sails my memory

arriving on a pirouetting ballerina,

hiding her death-dance across the Gulf

behind the sweet name, Katrina.

We were the intruders upon her dance floor,

thus, she broke both home and heart.

Yet, the dance was her's to coreograph,

then masterfully perform her part.

Now watching the distant tempests

as they rehearse their steps and spins,

I wonder if their show will open elsewhere

or on a stage near New Orleans again.

If either should choose the latter

I will most certainly give them this stage,

knowing my run at this venue

has come to the end of its days.
 

Thanks for reading,

Robb