A New Poem: And the Wind Blew

Inauguration day felt hopeful.  Such a good thing.  I wrote this a few days before, and even with some renewed hope, I can't forget or ignore what feels true.  

And the power went out. 

The wind lifted and overturned chairs,

    bent and broke tree limbs and whole trees,

    crashed through wind chimes,

    tossed bits and pieces of things to the ground.

Was it coincidence that it was the last day of the presidency

    that also upended things,

    that plundered the earth for profit,

    that enlarged the rich and diminished the rest,

    that lied in order to sway the gullible?

Perhaps the wind came to disrupt,

    but not in the way he disrupted.

Perhaps it came from an earth

    attempting to cleanse itself and us.

Perhaps the unsettled feelings it inspired    

    were not a bad thing.

Things are unsettled, and so

    must we be.

A virus rages and mutates as we

    do not change enough, or fast enough,

    to learn the lessons of the necessary.

Will the change of power brokers be enough?

There are 400,000 dead in our land alone,

    and many deaths still to come.

Maybe mine.  Maybe yours.

Perhaps the wind was a warning

    as well as a cleansing.

Perhaps we should listen to the wind.

Strike out "Perhaps."

We should listen to the wind.