In Sandy Hook the killer spreed and wanton death was made his creed – but first came powers from the sea – from faceless Hurricane Sandy.
There was not time for tea; not time for rest, or to love gently; the ocean flowed, overly, removing all trace of humanity days before the human did.
Yes, it’s a different Sandy Hook, in Jersey than Connecticut – but both were lashed with wroth and froth.
Now, where do we sit when the clouds blow, and the black powders blow, when the pesticides have laced their black wings into the leaves which we steep in hot water and take into ourselves?
Where do you sit now that we know the wind will never stop blowing?
sort of for Rommy’s much gentler prompt on The Way of Tea, in the imaginary garden with real toads.
and sort of to the long sentence prompt, at Day 27, NaPoWriMo
sorry for not commenting – been so busy – but will be back around in a week or two to pay more attention…
I’m near Asbury Park and Sandy Hook, NJ, where in 2012 Hurricane Sandy devastated the area. A few weeks later, in Sandy Hook, CT, a killer tore into a school with his bullets.
Flying into Newark, witnessed both the awesome and awful handiwork humans have wrought on the landscape. Flying over the Great Lakes, looked down at the brown effluent flowing into the great blue – a brown/ tan hue, swirling like a Nike swoop. Perhaps it’s time for tea…