Many throughout the central sections of the nation during the past few days have witnessed the extent of destruction possible from widespread turbulent weather in the spring and the consequent human suffering that can result. As reports of devastated neighborhoods and rising death counts filled front pages of newspapers and television or computer screens, I recalled an article I wrote three years ago on One Poet’s Notes, “Tornado Thoughts,” which recounted an unusual early breakout of severe storms and tornados during the month of February in 2008.
On that occasion, I noted the recurrence of tornado warnings each spring, as well as “the many times I have heard such sirens in the nearly twenty-five years since I moved to the Midwest, and I recalled stories told by a couple of old-timers who witnessed such devastation and recollected the enormous cost felt by neighbors in their own hometowns when they were young men.” I also confided: “On some spring evenings or summer nights when the prolonged signal of a tornado siren can be heard outside my windows—and the Doppler radar on the Weather Channel indicates possibly dangerous conditions—my wife, my son, and I have gathered in our second office and the entertainment room, those two large basement spots providing the safest places in our house and each furnished with extra guest beds.”
In addition, I included a poem, “Tornado,” which appeared in one of my books, Tidal Air. Today, as images of communities leveled by a tornado’s powerful winds and sorrowful accounts of loss—not only of materials but more tragically of so many lives—remind all of the pain or life-changing conditions that can occur due to nature’s uncontrollable power and its inherent unpredictability, I invite readers to revisit “Tornado” once more.
In addition, I included a poem, “Tornado,” which appeared in one of my books, Tidal Air. Today, as images of communities leveled by a tornado’s powerful winds and sorrowful accounts of loss—not only of materials but more tragically of so many lives—remind all of the pain or life-changing conditions that can occur due to nature’s uncontrollable power and its inherent unpredictability, I invite readers to revisit “Tornado” once more.
1 comment:
Like everybody else, I've been watching the news from Joplin about the tornado that hit there. My hopes and prayers go out to those folks. I know the kind of fear that takes hold of you when a tornado appears.
Years ago, we were living in Charleston, Il, when a tornado hit the southeast edge of town. It set down near where we were living. Here's a poem I wrote about the time before the tornado and the time just after.
My Daughter Lillian is Outside Playing
In the quiet space of the dining room
My wife and I lay out the place settings
The forks beside the Wedgwood plates
The spoons and knives in their places.
A napkin in her hand, she pauses
And tells me again of how her mother
Would starch and iron the squares of cotton
Wash the plates by hand and again by machine.
I smile, nod my head and turn to the window
See the roof next door lift, shingles
Exploding like scattered sparrows, and there
It is—the howl of the locomotive wind
And then a pounding at the glass door
And a screaming that will not stop.
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