»
Sanctuary
»
Poetic Haven
»
V.
| Poetic Haven |
|
V. |
|
Allysa 
since 1999-11-09
Posts 1952In an upside-down garden 
|
The walls of this room are empty and if she had a pen, she would scrawl little words of understanding, some memories, some sentiments, some stern sentences directed at the people who fake feelings, the people who only saw what she saw over their morning cups of black coffee as they half-heartedly watched the news, talking later about "the horror that is New Orleans", but Talk to anyone I've met and you will find that they would rather tell you about their family, their favorite drink or the right way to fix shrimp than what it feels like to go home to find that home isn't exactly how you left it not quite what you remembered, I don't know what it's like when everything's disappeared, what was it like, I want to ask, in hopes that she'll tell me about a younger her. She smiled, once, our knees brushing under the circular tables of the outdoor cafe as she told me about when she grew up there, she pointed out the beautiful dresses in the shop windows as we walked, recalling her days of Mardi Gras, ever since she was a little girl, probably about six years old, eating beignets, powdered sugar all down the front of her lap, "It's how you can tell," she told me, "That's how you know you've had a good night" And I can see her in my eyelids when I stop trying to frantically look around, she is sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch of a house that may not look important but it is, and she is staring at the sky where sometimes, it's different than anything I have ever seen and she is trying to recall all that she feels that she forgot, the people and places the years, and all of the experiences that have made her the woman she has always been, A woman who grew up in a small house in Baton Rouge with a bunch brothers and sisters half of whom I've never met and she tells me stories of watching TV when she was younger, it would cut out every time a train would cross the tracks in her back yard and, "see that light?" the one in the very back corner, she used to have her boyfriends shoot it out with BB guns, so she could sleep at night, she told me all of this as we drove around, looking at what was left And there's water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink, she thinks "It's getting old," hearing that everywhere, from everyone every time you turn your head to look someone is saying something that she doesn't want to hear again, too busy trying to figure out what room she left her memories in they're swarming around inside her head, a million stories ready to explode, and sometimes, she feels she will break- You see, unfamiliar voices say Toulouse too fast, "Taa-louse", like it's a dish served with a side of coleslaw, but they weren't married on an entree, rather on "Too Loose", in true New Orleans style that you can't see through the your TV screen where announcers repeat the words "refugees", no matter how many times you rub away the smudges, you can never feel the heart of New Orleans until you've rubbed her mud on your feet And I have found myself wishing for the narrow streets that at once all seemed to look exactly the same, now they have a personality so much different from the aerial shots plaguing TV screens, showing you how everything looks when you have no connection, no memory no idea of the places where ladies wore gloves and hats and "dirty danced the nights away" in a city that hasn't slept in years every second is a memory to New Orleans. |
||
| © Copyright 2006 Allysa - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
*tears* and smiles oh my dear friend thank you  and ask that lady about "Mr. Bingle" and "Morgus the Magnificent", "Chicken George" and "Ruthie The Duck Lady" and, and....mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm I want coffee and beignets now. How am I ever gonna leave this place, hmmmm?  |
||
|
Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Alysa...You touched my dear friend, Karen with this....you touch me also!  |
||
Musicmaker1969
since 2000-06-25
Posts 589Peterborough, Ontario Canada |
A great poem that gives honour and tribute to the workers, survivors and rebuilders of New Orleans. It was a very sad thing to watch and very scary. I live in Canada and I've had nightmares so I can only imagine what you and your friend/loved one are going through. May you find peace and be able to rebuild not only your homes, but your lives as well. God bless you. Sheri Adams Jesus lives in my heart! He can in yours too!!! |
||
|
suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
you can never feel the heart of New Orleans until you've rubbed her mud on your feet Amen... and then... you never stop feeling her. There is so much here that is brilliant... but what shines most is the heart of it... WELL DONE!! |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
