Waist high murky streams rampage quiet homes and restless cities,
Pressing burden against front doors, forcing an unwelcome entrance.
Waters rise, rise, rise more.
A weather warning weighs heavy like a prophesy with floods and rescue and a people’s cry for help.
Masses gather in small spaces, for shelter’s promise is the only promise today.
Preserve your people, Father, as they scour for refuge in the ruin.
We long for light to see.
Beautiful. You captured the raw feelings and cries for help that we all have-hurricanes or our own storms.
Thank you Leslie. Poetry feels more risky.