After the Hurricane
Jess Kovach is an active RadJoy member and wilderness rites of passage guide who lives in Apopka, Florida. This is the poem she wrote recently and posted on our RadJoy Community page about the complexities of surviving a devastating hurricane.
~Fallen Fences and Hurricane Debris~
I have been somewhere between there and here
10 days now since the storm
Waves of wanting to be home and unable to get there in time
The swirling wind and pounding rain on every news network
Repeated by friends and coworkers
Just when you think “I can dance with chaos; this is what we do”
The undertow hits
My heart tumbled under the current, dragging bottom, occasionally resurfacing
Home at last
So many flooded, “we are lucky” I whisper looking at the dry house, roof peeled slightly
The garden tended for 15 years, flattened layer upon layer
The fences of all ages blown down
All yards exposed naked in the after storm
I met a neighbor through this broken fence
We cleared the old fence today
To see the hoard of a life once lived
Learned that he died last year
How the fences can cover so much
It feels strange to knock on their front door, beautiful porch with a welcome wreath everything looks so perfect so put together
Now I see daily from the kitchen window the old cars, boat motorcycles, the clutter of dreams and to do list, one day that planned to happen
We go to the heart of the hardest hit
Bearing gifts
Those we visit fall deep in a hug sobbing
I can feel the strength of her spine curving outward from the weight
Lives upended by waters lifting
How strange it is to witness people move on as if nothing happened
How do we do this?
Incorporating hurricane boards with Halloween decorations this year
I wish to find a way to dance with this relentless storm
Go to the garden, place my hands on the Earth and breathe
A wood roach climbs my hand it feels so good these tiny feet touching my skin
I see a single orange and gold butterfly wing
They often come home to the place they were born
I give thanks
And plant the tiny butterfly wing with the roots of the coral honeysuckle the last standing vine
A prayer to feed those to come
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