Seven Year Storm

By Cliff Lake

 

Seven Year Storm

 

A turmoil too long,

That we have outlasted.

Losses we’ve taken,

We now are this few.

Some working to save us,

Some lost in themselves.

Gains have been meager,

Gaining members,

Losing resources,

Lost in the featureless squall,

Blown to this place by the Seven Year Storm.

 

A tempest unending,

A wind blown from Hell.

Searching for high ground,

Mudslides ridden back low.

A hint of the sun,

That we barely remember.

Clear daylight a dream,

Long weeks in between.

Yet it’s six weeks now I think,

That the gale hasn’t screamed,

Rebuilding this place after the Seven Year Storm.

 

A global gale opened,

By thoughtless meddling.

Careless consumption,

The driving fury.

An engine shaped,

By ignorant refusal

That any should be mindful,

Or accepting of blame.

So many benighted,

And all unprepared.

They found themselves menaced,

And were swept away by the Seven Year Storm.

 

How far have we traveled?

The landscape all changed.

Valleys and mountains,

Too well rearranged.

Rivers re-coursed,

Some swallowed whole,

Or swallowing cities,

Then pooling and static,

Or newly formed complete.

We camp by this lake,

Waiting for spring,

To start our lives over,

These survivors we are.

And maybe our wise ones,

Will retell stories and lessons,

After the mayhem of the Seven Year Storm.

 

Cliff Lake 3/27/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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