Inside the Eye of a Hurricane

by Susan Handle Terbay

As I sit on a bench near a cemetery I look up.

The sky is crystal blue, no clouds

nothing;

except a passing bird,

a fluttering butterfly,

a falling leaf.

A gentle breeze rustles the trees branches

causing the sun’s light to glisten on the running water at my feet.

It is so very quiet.

Trucks at a distant highway rumbling,

a screech of a hawk,

a soft flutter of wings,

chirping of crickets

and a chattering of a squirrel are all that the ear perceives.

It is so very quiet

Yet deep within this perception of sight and sound,

deep within the walls of my heart

I hear

the a roar of engines,

screaming,

wailing,

sounds of mortar and steel breaking,

cracking of bones and tearing of flesh,

groans and moans of pain and anguish

I see

the constant sobbing and flooding of tears.

My heart is beating

but I take no notice

for it is so heavy with sadness and anguish.

I come to this place to seek whispers;

to hear God’s voice .

I can’t silence the sounds within my heart;

the thunder that drives away the soft voice of God.

God where are you?

I can’t hear you.

I sit within the eye of a human-created hurricane.

The first wave of destruction has hit.

It is now a waiting period for the rest of the destruction to strike.

Then, a soft voice to my right, “Sue,” it says.

I look

there stands a mother

tears in her eyes,

holding out her arms.

We hug

We cry,

We speak what is ripping at our hearts.

Her son and my son grew up together.

Her son is home.

My son away, armed to fight a war.

Two mothers among so many mothers around the world,

terrified of the remaining part of the storm that has yet to hit.

After we part,

I sit back on the bench,

look up into the eye of the hurricane,

I whisper;

thank you God,

for letting me

hear Your soft voice

see Your sorrow

and share Your pain.