there are things that make naked
not in the strip-teases we like
each layer peeled in a sighing dance
with pauses for pleasure, but in blind surges
that take, rip everything at once,
tearing off what shields
we saw cities shudder under jet streams
dragging a hurricane that wanted ocean
into land, screeching at a moon
no one dared dream under
but prayed for safety. she still pulled us
into her game, knocking houses like dominoes
off foundations & idly flipping boats
onto boardwalks
the way babies splash toys out of bathtubs
we are skinned
the hard way wind
shaved the face off that building
leaving our stacked rooms open.
it is raining on the sheets. wind
claims the kitchen & the sofa
is a boat lost in waves
& sunk
but we are more
than the sum of these rooms. we are people
who pick past ashes, sift
brick for reminders,
because storms like this one
have retired names
& befores & afters.
we find small stones
to tuck into new walls we plan
like us, they will be stronger
& more resilient through remembering
Susan Daniels Poetry 
Very nicely written. A poetic synthesis of dramatic events, along with a considered appreciation for the small and personal moments.
Thank you, David.
I like! You end it on a note of positive energy. We can rebuild!
Thanks, Noel! That one picture, of the apartment building with the facade fallen away just would not leave my mind…
You writing just amazes me.
Julie, thank you!
Beautiful poem … loved it !!!
Thank you!
very voracious in its vortex of reality!
ohhhh–love all those V’s!
…and so too will we. Well done.
Thanks, Nelle! Easy for me to say, so very far inland, but I was watching our coasts intently.
Powerful and vivid. There is hope yet. 🙂
Certainly is hope… Though those poor people had a Nor’easter (another New England/NY coastal thing to deal with) this week.