Bruised sky

May 25 24 started so beautifully and mellow

Who new the warm winds and cold rain would come take our rainbow

The sky turned bruised, thick gray and green,

A summer night, a jagged scene.

The wind and sirens screamed a hollow dread,

As thunder shook the earth and bed.

The wind arrived with a predatory hiss,

And pulled us deep into a dark abyss.

The house is gone, a splintered grave,

For the gentle lives we couldn’t save.

Although we breathed and lived through it,

This is the trauma that doesn’t quit.

In every shift of wind or gray,

The heavy memories start to weigh.

The walls began to groan and bend,

As if the world had reached its end.

No "Oz" awaited in the height—

Just gravel, glass, and starless night.

The house exploded, wood and bone,

Into the blackness we were thrown.

The house is gone, a splintered grave,

For the gentle lives we couldn’t save.

Although we breathed and lived through it,

This is the trauma that doesn’t quit.

In every shift of wind or gray,

The heavy memories start to weigh.

Up in the funnel’s choking throat,

Where heavy beams and bodies float.

Then gravity, a cruel, cold hand,

Returned us to the broken land.

Tumbling down from clouds of lead,

To chests of black and backs of red.

The house is gone, a splintered grave,

For the gentle lives we couldn’t save.

Although we breathed and lived through it,

This is the trauma that doesn’t quit.

In every shift of wind or gray,

The heavy memories start to weigh.

The house is gone, the animals dead,

The recovery looms long ahead.

The recovery looms long ahead.

Long ahead...