Eleven

It was the storm of black rushing down once busy streets
people darting into stores covered in gray
bottled water for the eyes and throats
moans and are you OK

There were brave people who were on the way up
when all else was on the way down
and beams stuck through like fractured bones
that would never be set or healed

Do you remember when the clear blue September sky
gave way to hate for freedom's cause
to a new struggle that could not be won by politicians
nor understood by the twin ivory towers rotting from inside

It is once again September
and I am waiting for more insanity to play out
for the crowds to shake off gray dust and wash eyes in Viscine
so they can remove the grit from the great collapse

And yet - I will trust in the One who brings out
a green sprout on a barren and gray volcanic landscape
breaking up the catastrophic foundation and replacing it
with meadows and forests and buzzing and singing