Response

I stare in awe

and disbelief and gratitude

at a picture of a house

opened by nature, not shiny brass hinges, on one side

the rooms exposed like a little girl’s doll house.

Sally plays here, Jacob plays there.

The house is curved, sagging, ripped apart

Where the lovingly placed miniture

carpets and furniture and dishes belong

There are debris. Shattered shelters

Shattered lives.

Shattered glass,

A photograph of a time

That isn’t anymore.

I stare, with an unknown emotion

And wonder, and anger, and gratitude

At a uniform text, and another, and a few more

Emails, facebook groups, headlines.

Does the world really mourn with Haiti?

I don’t know what that child feels like

Who wrapped her arms tightly around her knees

Who ducked down and plugged her ears

Whose mother and little brother are lost in the rubble.

One, Two, Three, Four

We counted in unison when the sound of shaking ended

Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight

We kneeled under our desks in a bright class room

Forty-something, fifty-five,

One hand holds the leg of the desk, one arm protects your neck

And then at sixty there’d be a rustling

We’d come up from under our desks,

And we’d file outside into the sunshine

And we’d laugh on the soft green, level playing field.

The drill is over.

I don’t know what the teacher felt like

Who frantically tried to calm her students

Everything’s gonna be all right.

Who thought at the same time about

Where her husband was at this exact moment

And her daughter, and her sister, and her mom.

I don’t know if the boy with dreams to build a city escaped.

I don’t know if the pregnant woman survived.

I don’t know if the church is standing.

I don’t know if I’d be able to worship.

I can give money here, and there

And this organization, and that one, and the one across the street.

I know that my school, and my church,

and my city are all collecting.

But I want to feel the jagged crumbling bricks shred my skin

I want to dig with my hands. I want to understand.

I want to dig, not to my pockets or my bank account, but

To the soul stuck within the depths of a new chaos

and to the bottom of myself

As I figure out where

and what and who I am

in this world.

That can fall

In an instant.