Hurricane

               Hurricane

We could have protected her
what we once called home
     whose foundation we trusted

     whose walls gave us shelter
     whose windows let in day’s light
     and under whose roof we flourished
                              becoming who we are.

We could have protected her
in that time we spent eyeing the horizon
from the safety of the breakwater
     under cloud-mottled blue skies
     in gale-gusts of a distant storm
     marveling in the building waves
           tumbling one over the other
           thundering in a chaos of froth 
           bluster at the edge of the beach.

We could have protected her
     boarding up her windows and
     encircling her with sandbags  building
     a bulwark against the inevitable
						   unthinkable.

It can’t happen history says
history says
storms don’t come ashore here
						   history says.

We could have protected her
but we watched
     the angry wind shatter her windows and
     tear down her comforting walls
     a vengeful sea corrode and sweep away 
     the very foundation on which we placed
						           our trust.

We might have saved her…

But all that stands now is a lonely pole
     Old Glory  tattered
     shredded and clinging
above the rubble of what we once
					     called home.