Elegy

Below is my tribue to the tragedy of the BP refinery disaster on MArch 23, 2005. I was hesitant to post this, but I felt that this would round out my musings and rantings about the incident.

15 Souls

I

What is the sound
of 15 souls being taken?
Is it the sonic boom?
- God’s voice calling them home.
Is it the ensuing rush of air?
- Their collective breaths
leaving their bodies at once
Or maybe that white plume
atop the mushroom cloud
is 15 souls being lifted to Heaven?

II

Safety was a 4-letter word
in a 5 star company.
Profits, losses, and earnings
spoke louder,
so they meant more
but safety spoke volumes
in violations, fines, and accidents
It would take
15 more souls
to make a point.

III

My sense of place,
My sense of home
was shattered
on a mild March afternoon
But nothing compared
to those lives shattered
and splintered by tragedy.

IV

I can never go home again.
The memories are too painful
Those images
are forever burned into my mind
Of watching another fire burn,
Of waiting to know –
what went wrong
Of wondering. . .
. . . will this vicious cycle ever end?

V
What is the sound
of 15 souls being taken?
Is it the sound helicopters
airlifting broken bodies?
Or is it the anguished cries
of loved ones
waiting for good or bad news?
Or is it the cry of a child
who senses the separation
from someone they love?