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After the tempest
Shards of another life lay
In bitter silence
Rain-soaked dreams fall so softly
From eyes lashed in disbelief
Her vision clouds, unwilling to comprehend that memories, those pieces of time, lie scattered, tossed across a sober sky. She tells herself these are but things, bits of paper, faded photos, thoughts once tucked between board and nail... and a home is not things. Home is where the soul breathes and love lives. She wonders though when her heart will hear her words... and believe.
© mdbadgerow 2008
Written in the tankabun form.
This piece is dedicated to the people of Terrebone Parish in Louisiana, especially my daughter and sisters, who will do what they have always done.. survive and move on. Gustav and Ike dealt a mighty blow indeed. May we now have a chance to breathe deeply and begin to rebuild.
© 2008 Myrna D.
(All rights reserved)
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