Florida saw a stormy weekend.
Buckets of rain
Poured out of the sky,
We did not yet know
That those pouring buckets over
Our heads,
Were angels.

A short drive away,
49 full souls broke
Into shattered pieces
Of memories and
Laughter.

Safety and security evaporated,
Into the sky,
Among the ascending
Spirits of cut-short lives.

Treacherous storm, Florida,
The sun says hello,
Shortly after its short nap.
The sun woke up and
though its beams pressed on the earth,
things were darker now.

Through the rain,
The sun shined an illuminating
Rainbow,
For 49 empty bodies
To dance on,
To bounce off the colors,
Feel one final breath of air;

Reaching freedom that humanity
for so long refused to grant them.