yolanda

by

You were there when the angriest of waters submerged your sorrows,
all of them: your mother's disease and your father's debts and every
innocent question your wide-eyed daughters asked that you couldn't
possibly find an answer to, no. You were there when the angriest of
waters swept your stories away, when the seas overflowed and when
the streets became homes for bodies that would no longer know what
it feels like to want, to plead, to be afraid. To grieve. You were there
when it stopped, just like that, and you were furious that it all happened
in the blink of an eye but mostly you were just confused. Mostly you
were just sad. You were there when there was panic and you were there
when there was quiet, too much. You were there when waiting seemed 
to be the only choice; you were there when waiting was all you had left.
You were there, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that you were.
I wish you weren't. We all wish you weren't. But you were there, and
now you are here. You are still here. You will be here when help comes,
when a hand reaches out to grab hold of your dignity and pull it safely
to shore. You will be here when the sun shines again, when the sound of
raindrops no longer makes you cower in terror. You will be here when
it starts to stop hurting, when you realize that not even the angriest of
waters can wash away your spirit that stands taller than skyscrapers,
your brave, weatherproof heart. You will be here when we build again.