Amazing poem, Suzanna. The awesome force of nature is truly, well, awesome. Here’s a poem I wrote years ago when derecho swept through our state, destroying much in its path. It’s a sestina, a form you can read about here:
Once again there's that hidden message! So deep. I hadn't heard that news, either story, but my aunt lives in AZ and told me about haboobs. What a name!
Amazing poem, Suzanna. The awesome force of nature is truly, well, awesome. Here’s a poem I wrote years ago when derecho swept through our state, destroying much in its path. It’s a sestina, a form you can read about here:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/learn/glossary-terms/sestina
Derecho
You can smell the wildfires
In the straight wind storm tonight.
You can taste blood in the water
When the well isn’t deep enough.
I want to love your broken voice
Before it turns to nothing but hate.
You whisper you love to hate
Anything wild as water, fire.
Anything that believes it has a voice.
You welcome the coldness of night,
How your lover whispers back, “Enough.
Your touch runs off my skin like water.”
“Aren’t all our tears salt water?”
You reply. “Love turns to hate.”
Still, the body isn’t close enough.
Between the darkness and the fire.
Morning listens for night,
Night for morning—a voice.
Yet aren’t we also here to give voice
To wounds in the earth, the water
We turn to whiskey, rage, night.
Everything is easy for you to hate.
Even the kindling to set the fire,
The fuel, the flesh, never enough.
I wish I could say sorrow is enough.
I wish I could say some inner voice
Would carry you closer to water,
Mother, father, sustenance, fire.
I wish I knew the reason why hate
And your winds blow hardest at night.
If your mother couldn’t warm you at night,
If nothing was ever enough,
Maybe you could teach me to hate.
Maybe you could bury my voice.
So I would fall and fall like water
Or climb like the wildest fire.
“Make a fire of me tonight,”
I’d whisper. “Like water, my voice
Is just enough to carry love to hate.”
I had chills reading this, Michael. Just brilliant. These lines especially resonated:
"Yet aren’t we also here to give voice
To wounds in the earth, the water"
Thank you for commenting and sharing.
Such great imagery about a phenomenon not well known. (I won’t soon forget about water running off the cheeks of the road!)
Thank you Suzanna.
Thank you, Heide!
Amazing. I love the way you put messages in your writing. A true gift.
Thank you so much. That means a lot.
Once again there's that hidden message! So deep. I hadn't heard that news, either story, but my aunt lives in AZ and told me about haboobs. What a name!
Thank you, Andrea. I appreciate your comment.