a lady stands on a chair
tacking up Mardi Gras ribbons
on the garland
her son screams down the driveway
on the scooter Santa brought
Haiti has fallen, buildings
flattened on buildings
Haitians stacked in the streets
Help promised
Help promised
the ribbon is tacked above the door
a neighbor wonders why the news
continues to air Haiti's problems
there is nothing anyone can do
Help is promised
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After two years of working through grief, I've lost my ritual of writing every morning. I want it back. So this is my attempt to write my way back to the ritual which I love.
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