Last Good Cry:
a poem by D. Wyn Price, 2019
I plead for a revelation, open up my eyes
Tired of locked portals, too often said goodbyes
Frustrations plowing furrows, creases on my brow
Too tired for tomorrow, need faith right here, right now.
Blessing once were plenty, so many grateful times
Radiate the joy and wonder, the splendor in my mind.
Then the storm clouds gathered, the air heavy with coming dread
Those moments didn’t shadow my resolve or worry in my head.
At most a broken window, a day or two without power
Once the waters receded, dissipated showers.
But when we broke through currents, to finally reach our home
The realization struck us, and we were not alone
So many without power, so many the sky did fall
Water pouring through shelters, running down the walls
The seeds of trauma planted, worry taking root
The ignorant turn to violence, vandalize and loot.
Supplies were once plenty, hope on every shelf
Before the store had raged, you could merely help yourself.
Days and weeks would pass, time would blur and fade,
As the hopeless and the troubled started the parade.
Signs on every corner, homeless needing help
I looked for no hand outs, determined to raise myself.
Work harder, do what is needed, over, around and through,
Let nothing stand in your way, do what you have to do.
three months, so long without, no place to call our own
twelve weeks to live in hotels, no place to call a home
over ninety days to spend the holidays, deprived of any pride
No where to run to, no place left to hide.
You’re curious about my silver lining, no smile within my eyes
The pious look of mourning in my voice, every hello and goodbye
As if something diminished, yes in truth something did die
My hope and faith demolished, the inner child just cries
“I want my dad, my grandma,” he cried, “I need to find my space.”
“I need my best friend around me, Help me find the taste,
What flavor was hope and love, belief in what’s a home?”
Surrounded by so many just like me, I’ve never been more alone.