The Thoughts of a Refugee
Grab a few clothes.
Take the important papers.
Tie everything down.
Say goodbye to the neighbors.
This is the standard.
This is the norm.
It’s what you do
When faced with a storm.
We never thought
We would NEVER go home.
Are you sure it was only 2 years ago?
The text message,
“It’s all gone”
I just thought
No, not MY home.
The following months
Nothing but blame
Whose fault is it?
Was it the wind or the rain?
Mother Nature! She caused this pain.
Are you joking?
You must be insane!
It’s the Government
No it’s the State!
Let’s blame the President!
What difference did it make?
It’s all gone
It will never be the same.
Our first trip back
The smell of death in the air
It was our 15th wedding anniversary
Nothing normal could be found anywhere.
Street signs, landmarks
They were all gone.
Replaced by tents, barbed wire
People with guns.
I cried when I saw the people making their way
Through the food and supply lines
Looks of despair and dismay.
We were faced with the choice
Rebuild or re-locate
What do we do?
Our son’s were our first priority
We have two.
We sold our home
For a quarter of it’s worth.
We started a new life
A form of re-birth.
Two years later
Anger still reigns
To hear the stories
Of suffering and pain
The Politicians sit and play their games
Holding the money –who should get it?
Treating the residents
Like puppets on a stick.
I listen to the arguments
Who suffered more pain?
Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama
We are now one and the same.
We now live in a new city
Our children are protected
But it seems such a pity
Our hearts are breaking
Our true feelings neglected
We want to go home
To the beautiful place we all took for granted.
These are the decisions
We were forced to make
To keep our sanity
For our children’s sake
One day when the boys are grown
Maybe we can sell this House
And the “refugees” can go back Home.
With any luck
I can one day
Tell my Grandchildren about the biggest storm
That ever struck.
The nightmares, images and smells will all fade
But the magnitude of what happened
On one hot August day
Is one for the History books
And will never go away.
Not a day goes by
That we don’t stop and pray
For those who died
And those who decided to stay.
Debra
August 29, 2007