humility

Posted bywordsandcoffee1Posted inPoetry, W3 PromptsTags:, , , , , 
it starts with the stillness:
the hum of tepid breeze
billowing in my core.
then--
rumbling eastward,
curing strength in pillowed fists. glimpse 
lightning's zigzag grip 
and sudden flip 
of tsunami clouds
rolling on train whistles and thundering feet.
bursts of light capture
still frames:
the twisting of limbs, the crumbling of earth, the darkening
of day, the shriek of birds
in charcoal gray and 
nothing more. 
until
the peace of pooled water 
and neighbors' words crack
the stillness

This week’s Wea’ve Written Weekly prompt comes from Sylvia Cognac, who asks us to do the following:

  • Write a poem of any style and any length on the topic of “Power.”
    • It can be anything related to power in any way, whether it’s physical, emotional, or even electrical.

The other day, we had a huge storm (pictured above). I was again reminded of how special our house’s location is: we’re surrounded by rolling hills and farm fields in the countryside, which allows us to watch the powerful storm clouds rolling in from a distance. My husband, the kids, the dog, and myself were all outside with our heads tilted heavenward.

As a kid, I lived farther north in a very rural, forested area. Every single time we had a storm, without fail, we would lose power. Our electricity might be out for just a few minutes, or maybe several hours, or sometimes days. The longest time I remembered it being out was two and a half days, which really isn’t bad at all in the grand scheme of things. It was something we learned to expect from bad weather.

When I moved from my hometown to a city in southwestern Wisconsin for college, I worked for years as a housekeeper. One day, we had a (fairly minor) tornado tear through the city as I was at work. I was cleaning interior rooms in the windowless pool area and didn’t even notice the storm beyond hearing the warnings on the radio. I finally made my way up to the housekeeping office in the late afternoon to find everyone gossiping about the storm damage. My manager’s husband had called to tell her that they’d lost power at her house. I chatted with her a bit: apparently her house and husband made it through the storm just fine besides the outage. To commiserate, I told her how often we lost power back in my hometown when storms went through northern Wisconsin.

“That’s not safe,” she insisted unexpectedly. “You should have left your house and gone to a hotel immediately. That’s what I’m doing. I would never stay at a home without power.”

I sort of shrugged and laughed, certain that she couldn’t have been serious. Emerging from work that day and seeing the damage– downed trees and power lines, siding and shingles scattered from roofs, flooded streets– it seemed obvious that the electricity would be out in many places and that the main focus would be helping people who had damage from the storm. Getting the power back on would be a priority, but I would certainly place it below making sure people were physically safe, and I think most others would agree; I didn’t equate the two, and I know there are some people around the world who live their daily lives without a consistent form of electricity if any at all. I couldn’t quite put my finger on the emotion that my manager had conjured at the time, but I guess it felt almost shameful to take something like electricity for granted. Even now when I see the storms, I fill up buckets of water and gather the flashlights. When we make it through with everyone safe, I feel thankful. Working lights are the icing on top.

21 thoughts on “humility”

  1. I’ve never had a power outage so long that I’d consider going to a hotel! Sounds silly to me… Glad everyone is safe and you have lights! The poem does very effectively illustrate the power of a storm!

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  4. I know if the water in your home is provided by a well pump (that is powered by electricity) it really becomes unsafe to stay if it’s out more than a few hours.

    I have lived without power for weeks at at time during the summer, when we were living paycheck to paycheck. If we couldn’t pay a bill in time, then they would shut it off and demand a deposit as well as the delinquent amount to turn it back on.
    My sons learned how to manage without power as kids. Happily, we had city water and gas for stove and water heating. We used the freezer portion of the fridge as a cooler with ice we’d buy at the store. You cope and cope well in candlelight and flashlights.

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    1. It’s amazing what we can adapt to when needed! I do have special memories of playing board games by candlelight with family. We grew up with a well pump, but we always planned ahead by filling tubs and buckets with water and keeping some bottled and on hand. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked. I could see how that can become unsafe if people are unprepared.

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  9. its been a long time since i logged into my acc here, ive posted very less here, but very well i remember your work. i couldnt stop myself from updating myself on ur blog as soon as i logged in. i was 12 when i first started my writing, its been 3 years, and i really appreciate you with all my heart for commenting on my posts about how much u like it. you might not know but your words were the reason i wanted to continue posting at times, now reading this, Your blog post was truly touching and emotional. The way you described the storm and shared your childhood experiences with power outages evoked a sense of nostalgia and appreciation. thank you so much, again. ill keep visiting here often now. 🙂

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