Silence Come

The Gulf Islands & coasts flee before hungering hurricane winds
that curl in on themselves & spiral havoc that overwhelms leeward:
terror is natural, essential for human understanding.
The death prowl catspaws catastrophe out of the tropics northward,
disavowing temperate niceties, blowing categorical speeds
beyond proportion to the instant of landfall.
In the moment unleashed spirit meets sentience
the ground is shredded from its plant life;
the animals that were able to have already fled to higher ground,
the serpents were as wise.
Fresh waters fouled, riverbanks flushed of life;
oceanic solutions dissolve into lakes & swamps & become
miasmas of suffering.
And yet the still small voice was not in the storm,
nor in the torrent nor in the terror: but within each heart
where the code for survival was beaten out in the cause of coherency.
Within each soul there is a centre
that will or will not fail depending on providence.
The I that receives & the I that transmits
are a message mediated by the similarities & differences of their natures.
The hurricane may be a breath of the divine, but
the words that define its theological whys & wherefors
are human; they clamour to be heard above the aftermath opinions of others.
The Other is heard within, when night stills & wind wisps through willows away.