Monday, October 5, 2009

Ode to the Typhoon

The azure absence has grayed to a movement,
Matutinal at best with hot chocolate and bread
While penumbral to the percolator boiling water
For the flood, the power outage, and silent TVs.

You come, stealthily like news on crackling radio
Vague, vaunted, auto-validated, and the booms
And haze of your clouds’ early night fall on land
Like a cinematic effect, an effortless desuetude.

I embrace your charm as a child opening books,
Mimicking a howl to silence my fear, O teacher
Tough on lessons of modesty, faith, community,
Even forgiveness, as if everyone gathers as one

In this somnambulant swish of hoots, whistles,
And lashes. As though Christ is being prepared
For a post-storm carpentry, suffering in the eye,
The blood mixing with mud, sweat, & our tears.

Every year, one hits us like a heartfelt Holy Mass.

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