Amidst the Destruction

Funnel winds drove us under 

Playing school, on cots we'd slumber

Sounded like a driving freight train

Hail totaled the car again

🌪️𖦹꩜

The great flood of '93

Bronco ridin' to rescue the unlucky 

Friends living on the low flat plane

Snatch em up, there's room in basements

🚙🌊🏚️

Charlie's coming, jumped another category

Sitting in the eye, doing homework all day

The storm surged in a frothing round 

A sea of blue tarps for counties down.

꩜🌀𖦹༄

Shaking, swaying, jolting too

Quake in the night, wrenching sleep from you

Knocking loose items off your shelves

Fraying nerves and stressing

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Green rolling hills dried out and browned

Water table going down

Praying for rain day in day out

Reuse, reduce, recycle every drop

☀️🌡️🌾

Grab the pack to flee in the night

Choking as we take our flight

Flames ripping through trees, giving off light 

Smoke sucking away their magnificent lives

⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩

Whited out and busted pipes

Tree limbs broke the power lines

Let's go pups, we're heading down

It's Pac-Man lanes, one in, one out

K.B. Silver

---

This is a series of poems I wrote exploring the trauma of experiencing natural disasters. In light of the current situation with the floods in Texas, I thought I would share these. Natural disasters are everywhere, and with the weather patterns changing, we will all be experiencing more of them. We need to reach out with a helping hand when we're the ones sitting safe, because we won't be soon enough.

Living in Missouri, I went through an immeasurable number of tornadoes, but thankfully, I never lost my home. Things only ever rattled around, my Mother and Brother almost got injured by one of those old heavy TVs that fell, and any lost shingles were always easily replaced by my father. The family car did get totaled a couple of times, though. There is a lot of hail associated with tornadoes and the thunderstorms that come along with them.

I lived in the St. Louis area during "The Great Flood of '93." This was a disaster event that affected millions of people across nine states, resulting in 50 deaths, and lasted from May to September. I don't have a perfect recollection of the event, but going out with my father in his Ford Bronco to gather people from the flooded areas, and having water slosh into the cab of the vehicle left lingering marks on my mind. Let that sink in: nine states, five months, fifty deaths. As of writing this, Texas is sitting at 131 deaths in ten days.

Living in Florida meant experiencing hurricanes. I am not sure if there is a spot in Florida or indeed the southeastern United States that is not touched by this weather phenomenon. The most exhausting aspect for me was the buildup. Weeks of talk about the storm, and in some cases, a sudden bump in category, to utter panic, and the inability to evacuate. Then, in many cases, a new one barreling down upon you.

California has shown me earthquakes; thankfully, the shaking has been mild so far. No real destruction where I lived, just a bit of shot nerves, and upset dogs.

As well as wildfires. They have come within a couple of miles of our home, and we have had to evacuate multiple times. My last service animal was coming to her last months when the last round hit, and she had them sucked away by the stress of the evacuations, and died within a week or two of us returning.

Finally, we have arrived at Blizzards. Losing power has posed the biggest threat. That mostly happens when limbs come down, heavily iced, in the high winds. A couple of years back, one of our connecting lines was taken down, resulting in intermittent power during the storm. We had to shut down, which led to another evacuation once the storm was over.

Resilience, perseverance, and industriousness, Mother Nature taught me this.