Hurricane Hugo has it been twenty-years

Has it been twenty-years since Hugo hit
My first child, a son, was three-years, five-months
And my only daughter, at the time, was eight-months
Slept unaware in my bathtub padded with blankets

I knelt before my headboard
Staring out my window
Listening to the howling winds as it sang songs of terror
As the trees swayed in the midnight hours

Flirting with fate
As she seduces you
With words
That make love
To your ears

Her weapon of choice
An overwhelming
Sense of worthlessness
Bestowed on her
Victims

Effortlessly, she rips
Her prey’s confidence
Without any hope
Of regaining it

Here within lies
a recollection
of large talons
that tear smooth

creamy flesh

a cadence ricochets
off paint peeled walls
of the clatter as soles
strike dry dirt and stone

blood rushes

two sets of eyes
squint and scan
backs hunched low
only darkness shields

momentary peace

words mumbled
in restless sleep
betray the vessel
of secrets deep

burial crypt

posterity's portal
reveals a clue
gravestone cipher
the silent cue.

"BLACK MOON" or the end of the world as we know it.
Margaret Ann Waddicor Novmber 13th 2010.

Black moon,
your glow eclipsed,
the clouds lit by the flare
from burning lights of cities,
towns;
weep,
weep your tears
of sorrow,
for on the morrow
weeds will form,
in place of life,
its vigour
and lacking daylight,
wither.