Although I wrote this poem in 2012, long after Hurricane Katrina, it expresses the web of feelings that caught me as we drove away from Louisiana and north toward Ohio two weeks after the storm. Years later I took a class on the work of theologian Walter Brueggemann. In his book, “Spirituality of the Psalms,” I found parallels from the experiences of the Hebrew people that led to my own psalm of praise, lament and thanksgiving. Today, on the peak day of hurricane season, I dedicate this poem to the millions of people staring into the unknown danger of Hurricane Florence.
Hear the sweet notes that float across the river!
Good Lord, with what ease we move through life
In this land where you have brought us,
From slavery and the bondage of boredom,
To a place of spice and sweetness.
Where else could we have built our homes
But in the bowl beside the river?
O Mighty One,
Where else could we see your hand at work,
Building sturdy walls against the unruly waters?
Hear our song, O God,
Let it rise up from the river to praise your holy name!
Hear it now, the wind that wails,
The water that soaks sweet earth
In toxic sludge.
Who will hear it now, our song submerged forever?
Why, O God, do you hide your face behind the storm clouds
And refuse to see our devastation?
Why is your hand immovable inside your cloak,
Refusing to stanch the surge of waters and the wind?
Why, O God, is our good food
Rotting inside dead refrigerators?
Do you not hear our cries for help
from rooftops,
from inside our dying city,
from roads far away from home?
Our structures were not sound,
Our trust was misplaced,
Our hearts were not pure.
Only you, O God, can stop this flood of tears.
Hear the sorrowful notes that float across the river!
Only you, O Mighty One, can return us to the river,
Once again to sing your praise.
Hear the song that rises from the sludge,
The notes that hammer and pound and hope anew!
You, O Listening One, have heard our cries
And washed our city clean,
And washed our hearts with courage,
And washed our lives with compassionate love.
You have brought us a new day, a time
To put away our aimless ease,
New notes in a different key to sing of justice
And trust, and peace.
From the city in the bowl beside the river,
And from roads far away from home,
We raise our voices,
Grieving voices, lonely voices still,
But wiser voices now, that speak above the river’s roar.
Hear this new song, O Great Composer!
Hear the strong and graceful notes that float across the river!
© Janice Shull
Dear Sister Shull 