Tuesday Poem: Storm Front
Storm Front
Tomorrow
after our war
clouds stream
out of the nor’east,
seagulls fleeing
before the wind—
a voice on the radio
talks about what it means
to be . . . human, beating
against each other, asks
who will pick up
all the shards, piece
together the joins, dark
fractures enclosing
the whole.
© Helen Lowe
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I wrote this poem in 2009, but it seemed very apposite to the earthquake and its aftermath that we have been experiencing here in Christchurch over the past week—and because today is Tuesday, that means there must be a Tuesday Poem.
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So, it’s been a week today. How odd. It doesn’t feel it, and yet, it’s so hard to remember life before. This poem is absolutely perfect for today. It brought tears to my eyes.
Perfect voice for today. Thinking of you and so many others, picking up the shards…
Helen, I love the imagery and the brokenness in this poem, almost forced into “the whole” on the final line.
Thank you all, for your comments.
Dear Helen
‘Because it’s Tuesday, there must be a Tuesday poem. . . ‘ I admire your capacity to keep turning up, despite the hardship and deep exhaustion.
This poem had me in tears, too.
We are there, despite the distance. Be safe. Take care.
Love, Claire
Wow, Helen, what a stunning poem. Spare. Moving. Perfect. Thank you.
Jane