mercredi 12 août 2009

Lower Ninth Ward, New Orleans

The streets lost their names.
Avenues, drives and alleys,
Martin Luther King and Pinetree
clashed in the wind.
Quicker than one, two, three,
New Orleans' lower Ninth Ward
was unashamedly robbed
of its identity.

But did that really matter
in the end,
when the levees broke,
when the waters took,
The hood lost its houses.
Houses lost families.
Armchairs, tables, cars and bodies
floating in the stream.
So survivors fled
away from the flood.
All is gone now but lonesome foundations
left to rest in the shrubs.

1 commentaire:

stephanie a dit…

As someone who's lived in New Orleans for a year and has heard stories of the flood, I am greatly moved by your poem. simple and beautiful Anne.