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174 · Mar 2018
High Water, Cold Fear
B Bess Mar 2018
...it fell like tears, washing away years of memories past. Water rushing too fast.
Thunder loud enough to deafen my screams.
Lightning illuminating my drowning dreams.
Darkness blacker than the thoughts in my mind.
Sadness because of what I left behind.
Numbness from waiting on help.
Cold fear, allow me to introduce myself.
“Walk slowly, pack only two bags”
Look at my hope as it shatters and sags.
High water prickling my skin.
Look at the desolation I’ve found myself in.
Boats that shake and trees that sway.
Why and how did we end up this way?
Dry land seems like the Taj Mahal...
...because Harvey took my peace and destroyed it all.
So many people, so little space.
What is this feeling? What is this place?
Shelters are houses without soul and heart.
They’re made of corners for people to fall apart.
Move somewhere else, there’s nothing here.
Only miles of high water and memories of cold fear.
173 · Apr 2018
Help For the Helpless
B Bess Apr 2018
...when we walked through the doors, they stared.
Guess it was because we were wet, sad and scared.
Shoes soaked to the bone.
Stuck in a state of fear, but can’t go home.
They gave blankets and sad words.
Outside, the rain was beating like wings on birds.
Food on plates with gentle pleas to eat.
I just wasn’t hungry and I couldn’t feel my feet.
Shirt, pants, socks were things I tossed.
Thrown in the trash; just to add to my loss.
I felt *****, muddy, angry and mean.
1,000 showers couldn’t get me clean.
Prayers and hugs with voices so sweet.
I didn’t...no I COULDN’T move my feet.
Mom, dad, brother all broken.
Yet I couldn’t offer help, not even a token.
They try...
I cry.
Frozen; what could I say?
I wish I could fix it...take their pain away.
That night while they slept, I stayed restless.
In a place without hope
And no help for the helpless.

— The End —