Tornado 1966

One hour after the tornado
Wind lays low down at my feet.
Mothers holding children fathers running around to prepare
is July 1966, Army fighting still, on the news every night.
The other side of the road is calm, but it's not natural calm, it's something else.
The trees not standing still but still alive as anything.
Every leaf is green, pristine and clean like never before.
I know now what the birds can see and why they love to rest amongst them and sing through their leaves.
The flowers survived, they folded eyes and now open up to the sun.
The world has changed in a very short time for us all, but now a new day come.
We start again.
Babies cry, fathers yell, proud to be a part in the survival.
Me I'm 4 and I'm in awe of it all because of the beauty of the revival.
Trees are cut, windows broken, wood tossed inside dieing houses.
Us children gather what we can, mostly stay out of the way of the adults.
Mothers wash out bottles and feed babies on the lawns.
Music plays on AM stations from every car or window left on the road.
The air was full of energy, the thoughts were all confused.
Half the homes on my street were gone, some must have died.
Not a word was spoken though of loss or of remorse.
Only words I heard that day were lets fix this all, c'mon guys let's go!
That night we burnt three houses down. All the folk from the left moved in with us on the right.
We cooked hotdogs, dads drank some beers by the fires in the night.
I looked up into the skies and said to God it was nice.
A storm made us friends when we were so much less than that.
I saw something there in humanity that I may never see again.