And so Hurricane Sandy has come to pass.
We here in Harlem seemed to – blessedly – withstand her much better than our lower Manhattan, Brooklyn, Long Island and New Jersey neighbors. How awful was it to see all the reports of flooding, fires, power outages, the subway shutdown, a facade completely ripped off an apartment building, exposing the innards like a Fisher Price house, and more?
The fella and I hunkered down and waited it out, going out on the stoop at one point to hear the wind howl through a still-in-construction CCNY building atop St. Nicholas Park and see the leaves whip around on the street, nearly empty save for the occasional cruiser or ambulance.
We did our work, watched TV, shared what we were reading on our respective Twitter feeds (we don’t have cable), and kept peeking out the blinds in wonder. I couldn’t help but write a tanka, and after just reading it again before I post it here, I think it’s fitting that it’s the final one in my orange haiku notebook.
I don’t know, maybe it’s because I started the notebook way back in 2003, and have seen my haikus and tankas morph from silly little ditties about hating my job back then to poems I’ve seen move my loved ones (and kind of scare them, too, because sometimes I can be a bit dark).
I always said that when this notebook is full, I want to release a selection of it as a published book, and that’s something that’s really, really on my mind now.
If you have any suggestions about how to go about that and whatnot, I’d love to hear them!
Well, without further ado, here’s that oh-so-final haiku in the orange notebook:
The wind is roaring
as Sandy gets closer still
leaves are ripped from the trees,
the streets are mostly empty,
and yet I want to wander.