Again the storm has come and passed, but help is still needed in many of the effected areas. For more information about donating and volunteering please click here. Thank you to the policemen, the firemen, the volunteers, Con Edison, and everyone who helped me out, and who are still out there helping others.
I'm not much of a poet, but I wrote this poem, or short story, or rambling the night after the storm:
In this state of blackness—pitch blackness—everything is so pronounced, and so exaggerated
The silence is louder than ever, and those sirens—
Those sirens pierce through this blackness like needles lodging themselves deep, deep into my skin.
Those sirens! Those relentless sirens!
Miss Virgin Mary burns throughout the night,
Keeping light in my eyes and warmth in my mind.
I am a non-believer, but winds like these will convert anyone to the other side.
I sit, watching the wax water and puddle—it drip, drip, drips.
The rain has not subsided.
It beats down and comes from every direction.
It sticks, slime-ing the leaf littered road.
My water is sea, and electricity gone.
They become fluid as the need increases—
Water is electricity, electricity is water.
Finally all is over, and coldness ensues.
And into the vastness of hell I go.