in India
on Friday
the earth moved
unexpectedly
and shook down houses like matchsticks
whole towns of 35,000 were leveled
as many as 15,000 may have disappeared in the rubble
It is not a region
one newscaster intoned
unfamiliar with disasters
but such numbers are inconceivable
rescue crews say the limit for survivors is 100 hours
but five days later people are being delivered
from debris
a woman is unearthed, a
seven month old baby in her lap
covered with blood
still breathing
on saturday
the earth quaked in our quiet valley
a region where disasters are unfamiliar
yes, in our world of scholars, students and friends
we have our likes and dislikes
our passions and despairs
people hunt with guns
kill animals
and each other, sometimes, accidentally.
more often, we slay reputations and ignorance
with words and pithy arguments
we give birth at home by the deft hands of midwives
and cradle babies protectively in our laps.
but on saturday night
our world unhinged
as surely as the shifting of tectonic plates
a swift, sudden, secret blow
drained the lives of two in our magic circle
Susanne and Half,
many of us have been with you
in those last dreadful moments
we have imagined what we do not
and cannot know about death
over and over
in desperation
to draw close to you
and touch what binds us
to bear with you
and for you
as if our bearing it
could bear it away . . .
what sense can be made from such wrenching?
nothing could prepare us for this.
we are not ready to let you go
days later
the debris of that night
still crushes us
and
out of place
in our little lives
we have only each other
and memories of
you smiling
to unearth us
