There is a cleansing-
Some might say of evil
in this muddy wash that careens
down the canyon.
A fury of of froth carries logs, homes and cars
down a liquid roadway of death.
Unstoppable; Uncontrollable;
Unbecoming of nature herself.

There is a cleansing-
of which we cannot understand.
The hand of God played against
the hand of man. A futile gesture
to believe “we” can contain the unthinkable.
Now not much is left.

There is a cleansing-
in places deemed safe. But
we were wrong or maybe just
ignorant and haughty; respectful
yet boastful. “It couldn’t happen again.”
At least, not so soon. Scars still not healed
torn open anew; deep and painful.

There is a cleansing-
When the sky finally parts
the clouds. Too much rain was days ago
yet still they cried their tears into the river,
swollen and brown. What must we endure
except that which we create in concert
or opposition? Only the earth truly understands and
seems not to care.

There is a cleansing
of river and sky, of towns
and homes, of life and lives which
we may never comprehend-or
possibly don’t want to. Grief,
despair, loss, anger without
ever moving beyond.

There is a cleansing-
in years, anguish through time
that never heals, like a child’s tantrum
ignored, returned with vengeance on
anyone within range. Now passed-
energy exhausted, but for its evil laughter
of thunderous, rolling destruction. Landscape
forever changed, the shadows of history demolished.

There is a cleansing-
one I hope to never
witness again.


To help the 2013 Colorado Flood recovery effort, visit: Help Colorado Now, or the American Red Cross.