Tornado!

 For all those who have met the tornado. This poem was written after the Moore, OK tornado.

 

                   The Night  of  the  Tornado

                                                                     by Janie McRae

    

Sirens scream,

Seek shelter. Seek shelter.

Mere minutes to scramble.

The children are in the closets.

The children are in the closets and in the bathtubs.

The children are covered in blankets and

Wrapped in their mothers’ arms.

Screaming pulsing sirens shrilly
Press on with life-saving warnings!

Seek shelter. Seek shelter. Seek shelter.
In the chaos,
Shrill Strikes Scream from a 5PM alarm -
Warning of approaching mayhem and disaster.

The black and thunderous rage moves closer.

Suddenly,
A clock strikes 5 - final warning before frenzied winds descend.

Quickly! Seek shelter. Seek shelter. Seek shelter.
Too late.

The house shudders and shrieks!

Explodes!

In slight seconds,
Fierce tornadic winds swoop down like drone missiles.
And like drone missiles,
They hit their targets - man’s progress.

Aged oaks and fat pines are splintered and tossed.
They plunge into the roofs of houses - or -
Crash into a soft wet earth.
Furious winds of howling and swirling blackness
Surround and destroy the sanctuaries of lives.

Glass flies, and it is raining shrapnel.
Particles of fiberglass choke the air -
As if thousands of feathered pillows have been ripped
And tossed from the black sky.

Glass studs the surfaces of kitchen cabinets.
Piercing and stabbing glass chips embellish the patinas of old furniture.

Glass stings every surface of the house.
No one is safe.
No one is sure.
But the children are in the closets and wrapped in jackets -
Covered with pillows and comforters.
The children are in the closets and in the bathtubs,
Covered in blankets and wrapped in their mothers’ arms.

A rafter flung through the turmoil
Pierces a back brick wall,
Lands on the master’s bed,
Comes to rest on a king-sized bed.
No one is safe.
No one is sure.
The children are in the closets,
Wrapped in jackets and covered with pillows and comforters.
The children are in the closets and the bathtubs
Covered in blankets and wrapped in their fathers' arms.

Seconds Pass, Fury flees.
In the uneasy quietness,
Softly hissing hums of broken gas lines fill the night.
Raw electric wires coil like snakes in dark streets.

Footsteps are moving with purpose.
Neighbors are running to neighbors.
First Responders are covering ground.
Where families lived and loved,
Where houses once stood,
And there is now rubble, and a sea of debris.

Where houses once stood,
Tossed bricks, and boards, and nails,
and crumpled cars,
and scattered memories are left behind.

Though Memories are bruised and battered,
Life will make life, and Memories will survive.

Mothers, take your children out of the closets,
Out of the bathtubs,
Out of the safe-rooms,
out of the basements,

Emerge
Into the hot and heavy air of the night,
The Night of the Tornado.

Hope remains strong,
for the injured, for the missing,
for the trapped and the battered.

Hope remains strong,
For the children.
For the children who are missing.

For the Future.