In The Aftermath of a Fat, Oklahoman Tornado

In the calm of the afternoon,

I look out at everything

that was broken.

My ears still ring

from the shouting wind

from the night before.


in its capacity

to paint,

took its current rage

and placed it onto the earth.

The name of the piece

was “Destruction, Chaos.“

The suburbs were the canvas,

the wind was a thick paintbrush.

Nature drew fat lines

during those hours,

rearranging homes

into large poorly colored splotches

of broken wood,

shattered glass,

bent metal,

and weeping insects.

When nature finished its piece,

I was one of the few

to properly critique it,

and I still do,

but I am without words.

I hear cries in the distance,

as if they were waiting

for another to respond.


I believe I will stand

and paint over this one.

It shall be called,

“There’s Hope Nearby.”

© Michael Goldstein

This entry was posted in Other Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to In The Aftermath of a Fat, Oklahoman Tornado

  1. Jane Saperstein says:

    So sad and so well said! Another masterpiece by you!

  2. Steven Spitz says:

    Poignant, perceptive and profound (and I’m just on “P”). Beautifully written!

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