Hurricane Amelia

The sea and wind gave birth

to a beautiful baby girl

a fragile thing, a wail

like a mew; Amelia, she was

named as she skipped

rocks across the Atlantic

 

her attitude swelled as she grew

bored of her fish-friends

and salty home

a gull found her sulking

alone on an island

making waves; he beckoned

West with a caw

and she heard his lighthouse refrain  

This way, Amelia, This way

 

so West she went

twisting inward from self-

importance, making cool

friends like Gulf breeze and palm

trees that followed her

path in awe and fear

This way, Amelia

 

in her excited wake

she rid the beach of trash

and littered it with limbs

of trees and broken

bottles; she drowned little suns

in homes to make them caves, dripping

and echoing under her

bloated frenzy

 

the scared

whimpers of families

huddled in sweaty anticipation

soaked by her

mother's precipitation

beaten by her

father's breath

and driven mad by

Amelia, who named herself

after a pilot lost

at sea, a fragile thing

 

she settled, looked around

and saw rooftops blown

city-wide, clean roads

blockaded by trees

older than she; she wept

and calmly peered into eyes

of families on their torn lawns

in pajamas, holding hands

or cups of coffee

 

brought closer

as neighbors through her

reckless abandon; true clarity now

and as families

slowly retreat back into their cold

caves, Amelia follows her

destined flight path, This way

to abandon the sea

and die, lost somewhere

in the middle

of Georgia

Reviews

[Mia]

This poem is beautiful and well written. It was easy to get wrapped up in your words and the journey. Sad yes…I must agree with Steven from her lonely island to her lonely death. From her unwelcomed presence to her celebrated demise. Despite the fact she caused such destruction I can’t help but feel sorry for her.

[Enchantment]

Very well written. Your description was easily visualized. Thank you for sharing your poem.

[Marri]

So vivid and beautiful!

[Steven]

A beautiful and sad depiction. The name of this storm really does evoke the image of a little girl. And her she grows, proud and defiant, heading west. The piece has that slow, pensive southern charm to it. She ends with a muted blow, in a parched, sandy land. Enjoyable to read, and thought provoking.

[Brittany]

What an interesting POV. Nicely done. Good descriptions.

[p.kuhl]

hey, thanks Brittany!