Hurricane Frances                             September 4, 2004 (Day Two)

Still moist air

In an inky black room

I am comfort

For the child in my bed

My candle’s flame does not flicker

Yet outside…

The rage continues on

Scantily dressed bodies lay across sheets

No cover necessary in the sticky warmth

We try to sleep…

It passes time

Hours to go for Grand Bahama

Last hit on this beautiful chain of islands

Frances lingers here…

The radio tells me eighteen hours to go

The darkness a veil

For the demon outside

I cast my flashlight out into the night

Peering close between the space in my plywood

That protects my home, my children, my mind

My neighbor’s house is not so lucky

Two planks blown off

In the wildness of hell sound is its symphony

The sound magnifies fear

Blowing, howling, whistling

Wind that whips, ebbs, and whips again

But in no particular direction

The young twin-palms outside my window show me that

I sip my comfort

Assess the sleeping angel by my side

Settle my son who cannot sleep from the next room

Kill a tick near my sleeping potcake, a roach on the wall

And try to settle into my bed once again

Dreams interrupted by noise

Is that rain dripping from my roof outside?

Or water leaking into my haven?

Another cockroach on the ceiling

Flashlight check around the home

All is well…

I peek out the back window expecting the worst

All looks fine

The vehicles are parked snuggly up by the house

I turn on the radio

My link to the outside world

So much more going on out there

The airport flooding again

Rescues from low-lying areas

And the wait…

The incessant wait

A perpetual mind game

“Expect the worst, but hope for the best”

This hurricane’s motto

And as I recline against my pillows yet again

And ponder on thoughts of the future

Food prep, water, power, cable, phone, school

The hum of the storm lulls me into sleepiness

For a little while longer

And back into the unknown...