The Light of Hurricane Katrina

Though I was terrified as the brutal storm slammed the land, I found shelter through many things,

A likeness of Ganesha, a small piece of jade, candles on the mantle, a small battery powered radio and The hiss of AM, and me pacing in circles and talking to God,

I proclaimed my appreciation for the many things of the world, the cracked corporate conspiracies,

The hearts of secretive politicians, all the systems how perfectly intertwined, the laws of nature

As expressed through a furious deluge, everything in sync and acknowledged as I walked and spoke Aloud, grasping the perfection of the world as if it were my last day.

I watched the storm from different vantages, from the window in the living room,

Where outside the rain seemed less like water than sheets of ice slanting onto the asphalt,

Where the wind roared as it bent and snapped tree limbs and trunks throughout the neighborhood.

I stood in the screened-in back porch and gazed at the huge sycamore that stood in the middle

Of the yard.  I watched the planks of the wooden fence shudder under the force of wind,

Certain that at any moment they would dislodge and seek the façade of the house

Like spears chucked by an angry storm as she displayed her power and her fury.

I held the piece of jade tightly in my fist, seeking the symbolic protective force of a stone,

Rubbing it with my thumb as I continued my conversation with eternity. 

I studied the picture of Ganesha with his blue elephant head and regal robes, his broken tusk that

He had hurled at the moon along with the curse of darkness until he was convinced

To restore the light to the celestial sphere.  I meditated about breathing and attempted Zazen

While the crash of objects being forced into direction and movement echoed through the room.

I napped briefly on the couch to conserve my strength and when I awoke,

I was surprised by the flickering candles’ reflections on the surface of water

That had begun to fill the house as I had slept.  Disoriented, when I touched what I imagined

A dream, the ripples extended to the corners of the room and the candlelight distorted. 

I gathered my things, recent journals, a wallet with identification and money,

The hard drive I had removed from my computer, upon which was recorded my recent efforts

At writing a novel, extra clothing, a compact pillow, and a quilt

My conversation melted into silence as I clicked on the black flashlight, found my way

To the attic over the garage, and cowered in fear as the haunting tornadoes sounded

Through the distance. I wrote in my journal by candlelight and sipped from a pint of bourbon,

I noted the sounds, described the way I tripped over a fallen tree limb as I maneuvered

Through the flooded yard, how my clothing was drenched, how the coldness seemed

To wrap around me more out of solace than out of disdain.  When I had exhausted my strength,

I blew out the candles and slipped into the realm of dreams. 

I slept until the storm abated, and climbed down from my sanctuary.

Outside, the night sky opened up and stars thickly filled the distance as if they had all

Been constructed by one sliver of light and interconnected.  I surveyed the yard, the flood water

Three feet high and filled with toxicity.   I looked at the small crepe myrtle bush,

On whose flexible limb I had secured a bright red hummingbird feeder using a small wire tie.

In awe, I noticed it still hung, though scarcely secured against something like a storm,

And it became another symbol that had protected me

From the terror of a life threatening storm, and the possibilities of unwise decisions.

I had been spared through a process of gratitude, superstition, and reverence

As I waded into the neighborhood, certain I was alive.