Butterflies can’t fly
When under the spell of hurucan’s
And fuel doesn’t flow
When the spirits are banished
Instead neighborhoods
Where children once played
And financial districts
Where bankers once got paid
Are replaced by the uncertainty
Of stagnant waters
That transmute commodities
Into strained resources
As the winds put thunder into the ground
Disturbances with deep depressions
Ripple all life around us
Propagating reactions
That undulate
Pushing against normalcy
Disrupting cosmic flows
We want to be soothsayers
With divining rods proactively dipping
Solving thirst before the tongue swells
But instead we find ourselves
Wading through E. coli baths
Sitting in flat bottom boats
And then trading it all
For the humid noise
Of humanity packed cot to cot
Peering into the skies
We strain to see divination
Of the omnipresent
Masterfully dictating
Carefully controlled actions
All with a purpose and mission
But all we see is clouds
Moving faster than in our dreams
We find ourselves
On the ground
Knees hugging our chests
Wondering when the water from the heavens
Will stop mixing with the salt
Streaming down our faces
Among battered trees
And crumbling structures
Buffeted by powerful fist blows
We wait for the sun to come up
So we can straighten our backs
And tell ourselves that we are stronger
That we aren’t insolent precarious beings of nature
With blinders on our eyes
And storm shutters on our windows
Perhaps this is how we survive
By knowingly allowing
The leathered sap
To lay down across the backs of our heads
Momentarily turning off the lights
When the rain stops
And we open our eyes
Vision blurry
We rediscover empathy
In the form of hands outstretched
Snatching victims from rooftops
Giving insight and recognition
That we are beings
Interdependent and synergetic
Without each other
Regardless of divisions
Caused by birth
We are much less
Than what our creator
Meant us to be
When Power Consumes, Poetry Cleanses... 