Tuscaloosa
don't watch it from a distance
feel the wrath of wind
the way debris flies up and stings
the way your hair would flail
listen to the piercing call of sirens
the pop and sizzle of electricity
feel the dry wind turn to wet lashes
of driving rain, feel helpless
as if the feet of heaven's host
run towards battle and you are
in the path of the stampede
underfoot of a racing fury
feel mercy and grace swept up
into the funnel of an irreconcilable justice
the silence of a storm's center a
holding place for your future
and feel the sudden yanking up of everything
you knew, a sudden flinging off of your own truths
feel the nakedness and shame of devestation
no walls to hide behind and ask yourself
when everything is swept away, what will be left?
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