Flood Heart

Today, the shape of Texas feels like a human heart

art_inthecity from Montréal, CA, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jim_Dine,_the_Heart_Called_%C2%AB_After_the_flood_%C2%BB,_2011_(48782524672).jpg

Those who removed
from flooded plain
became seeds sown
in bereft souls.

Brutal weather
left blood on the
hands of leaders
incapable

of making safe
decisions, of
understanding
breath’s sanctity.

Loss of life is
gross weight borne by
those left with lungs
and arteries.

NOTE: What can be done to honor the souls who’ve left planet Earth at the hands of Mother Nature’s violent waters? Poetry doesn’t even come close, but it is all I have in my own hands, in my own heart, at this moment in terrible time. I feel the weight of grief as I feel the pressure of water, the pressure of air, the pressures of politics that do not include the forms of reason that I understand. I am sorry, dear families of victims. I am sorry and I send it wrapped in sympathy, compassion, and the ethereal light of love.