Tuesday, April 4, 2017

New Orleans, September 2005

The streets are still
The silence fills
The cracks and dips
Where dirty water drips
Abandoned by the rebel
Crowds of drunken devil
Seekers, and the doorway
Sleepers, the poor
And meek who made
Their way alone, no prayer
Is strong enough to lift
Their bones above the drifts
Of mud and broken homes
Which rise like tombs
From water graves
And submerged caves
Of lost humanity.
Atlantis falls into the sea.

Alison Day