stormwaters.

this was the year
the rain came early
it dragged you out of bed
when you heard it pounding,
maybe it sounded
as if someone
was knocking.

this was the year
the house
got flooded

-no surprise to us,
we had not ignored
the evacuation call.

but you are stubborn,
and you stayed.
you yelled, you held
on to everything
we'd left behind
-most of it.

then the phoneline went down
and we didn't hear from you.
"not much difference,"
mother said.

when we came home
we found you
floating alone
"not much difference,"
i said.

but the rains had not
changed you,
had not even
pierced your skin.

instead you told us
of the great flood of
our ancestors,
stories from our past.

oh you were proud.

but you still could not
see what you
were not holding.