Poem By Sister Joyce Schladweiler
Against a "savage," churning, churning sky,
A splash of brilliant, sequenced color.
Is it a Double I see?
Behold "a thing of beauty,"
seen quite rarely.
Noah's bows - twins identical.
But - what has gone before?
Are ever two alike?
Life snuffed out or maimed, animal and human;
In number - few or countless, dastardly,
In conditions - stared upon in shock.
Grotesque, mangled, broken, stiff/cold, charring perchance,
Property bashed to smithereens
By winds with twisted minds,
Slashing - out indiscriminately,
At dilapidated hut or shack,
Or latest palatial style.
Naught of nature left untouched;
Before it stole out, unobtrusively,