The Lamentation of Katrina

By the waters of Pontchartrain,
we lay down and wept for thee, Easy.
Wept for all we lost,
the precious and unique.
Wept for all we gained,
the bitter and unending.
When black night blind, minion of the storm,
stole the sky, wiped light from the world
and left us not in the dark, but under it.

By the waters of Pontchartrain,
we lay down and wept for thee, Easy.
Wept for the harsh detergent 
that scrubbed all color from our world
and left everything brown and gray.
Stripped and scoured the thin paint of civilization
off the wooden skeleton of the city,
unbleached and unbleachable,

never to shine again. 

By the waters of Pontchartrain,

we lay down and wept for thee, Easy.

Wept for our city by the river,

wept for our city by the lake

wept for our city by the sea.

Wept for our faith in walls of mud,

Wept for our faith in machines,

wept for our lost faith

in what we should have done,

could have done, would have done

with our moment of failure,

frozen in time.

By the waters of Pontchartrain,

we lay down and wept for thee, Easy

wept for the our Mother Water,

wept for days when she filled our plates

and held the cool cup to our mouths.

Wept for the nights when we slept between her breasts.

For what can the child do when the Mother says,

“I don’t know you,”

but lie down and weep.

We lay down and wept and knew

nothing would ever again be Easy.