The Storm

Locations

45011
United States
39° 25' 46.7076" N, 84° 30' 42.2352" W

Rivers, made of streets, rushed by;
rising higher
through the night.

Houses crumbled to the ground;
people lost and
dead were found.

But the storm has not yet stopped;
climbing, desperate,
to the top.

Cars and trees were swept away,
in the light of
coming day.

Though we worked with frantic speed,
we couldn't save them;
now, they're free.

As the daylight finally broke,
my faith, once lost,
suddenly 'woke.

A sign, placed on a roof-top torn:
'we will praise You
in this storm.'

(Based on real events that occurred May 2, 2014. Written on May 4, 2014.)

This poem is about: 
My community

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741