POETRY: Katrina

When ever more needed?  The walking on water,
as God grown to woman left His dolls in the rain.
The swell of the forces that grew far beyond us
crept into the city as soldiers lay sleeping
to mingle with earth in a petulant roar.
Tides of dissent rise and lap at the mountains,
hair of saran floats like fish nets on waves as
the sun shines benevolently, hideously down.
Then receding in shame as the ark rode the sea out,
the waters lay puddled in valleys of fear.
Left behind is a desert where people shall wonder
and wander in loss and in hope.