Howwwl

apodJune132005

The night wind howls 

around my house,

and I - like one entombed

in the lungs of that howling man -

cannot sleep.

For eight hours, then,

I lie and shivver,

hearing every last shudder and splinter

of the wind and the wood.

The moan of the elements

becomes my own moaning;

the power and force of it

rattling my house,

my power,

and yet I know it can engulf

and destroy

me and all I own,

reclaim me to the yawing soul

of the abyss.

extremeinstability

Morning comes,

radio on,

I learn 

43 people have died in these storms.

April showers used to bring 

May flowers,

this year they bring

just the cold of the tomb.

Then the story on the radio changes,

and we're back

to the same old bickerings in the U.S. Senate,

the same old wars and revolutions,

humanity navelgazing --

How deaf we are to the voice of our mother,

begging us, pleading us

to pay heed to each other.

May this week pass peacefully.