Love in the Time of Katrina
The wind swept through the backyard
bending trees like kindling,
howling windows,
making them sing
a cyclone song
filled with sorrow’s ache
and love’s loss.
I remembered these winds
as I sat on the back porch
watching Winter’s snow
cover the field and trees
with white.
It might seem strange
that an August tempest
would come to mind
in the midst of
a March snow squall,
but then, it is also strange
that love can die
like a hot Summer breeze
as it rustles the leaves,
leaving everything in humidity’s grip.
They say, there is a calm
before a storm,
and clean air
and clarity afterward.
This is a gross lie,
as love’s storm,
like Katrina,
leaves only devastation
and hopelessness.
It’s a natural disaster
made worse
by man-made social relations.
redzone 3.6.19
Yeah, that calm was not calm at all. The aftermath was. Terrible
Katrina, one of the long list of American crimes committed against Black folks. Countless numbers of Black people crammed into the Astrodome, that looked like the slave ships that brought African people here as slaves. The thousands of people who lost EVERYTHING and who were “dispersed” to different parts of the country. Yes it was natural disaster but made worse by man made oppression, like the whites who shot at Black folks on the bridge out of New Orleans, forcing them back into the floods. This country truly is a nation of barbarity and savagery.
Thanks Fia, it is always great when you come and visit my poems.