Changed

As I watch, day after day, people who have lost
so very much I am changed.
I hear from their own mouths that red cross trucks
pass them by as they eek out each day in a tent.
Babies in parking lots trying to live.
Little food, fighting daily to survive.
Crying, where is my government.

Babies, elderly, men, women, children.
I don’t give a damn what color, what class.
Humans with so little left, thanking anyone
for the smallest item, the gift of a bottle
of water. Here in my cool home with food and
lights, I feel guilty to not have done more.

Survivor guilt. I am engrossed in it all.
I see friends on line turn on each other.
I hear people here in the places I have been
talking of this horror, blaming the victims
for not leaving. Slamming them with anger.
Words meant to inflame and harm. I shake my head,
sadness engulfs me. How can humans be so cruel.

I want to explain, the countless warnings,
the tidal wave that took it all. The belief that
this was a slow flood, no it was quick, water to
a height of five feet before one could think.
Higher than that as they tried to leave. Fear.

Today and other days as I see news reports,
see bodies on the side of roads, a simple torn
cloth as their burial shroud.
Someone’s Grandmother, left there for now.
Until all survivors are found. I ache.

I am changed. Unable to easily deflect bigots, racists
and hate. For every horror story there is also one of hope.
For every story of the inept there are also stories of bravery.
I must focus on those, the brave, the honorable.
I will try to allow a higher power to deal with the rest.

I am changed. By an act of nature more so than an act of
terrorism. Towers fell, help rushed forward.
This time, as nature did the damage, people are judged.
By what is suspected they could have or should have done.
Who are we to say. We were not there. We did not live
their lives.

I am changed. By reports from friends who went there.
Of disorganization, of hours spent waiting for assignments.
Patients surround as they are made to wait. Supplies,
medically necessary, unavailable to assist.
I internally scream why.

And so my voice returns to this space, the need to vent
stronger than the need to silently mourn.
Anger boils as compassion also overwhelms.
I am changed forever more.