With hurricane season upon us, I felt inspired to write a poem about Hurricane Ian, the devastating mega-storm that hit Fort Myers, Florida last November. At least 150 people died as a result of the flooding, most of them elderly and most from drowning. The storm surge on the coast caused the Gulf of Mexico to rise over fifteen feet above its normal limit. An entire bridge washed away from Sanibel Island.
Like the Nile River, the St. John's River in Florida runs north. With all the extra rain, the St. John's River swelled to an all time high, flooding outlying land like no other time in anyone's memory banks.
After the hurricane subsided, I stood outside my home to view the aftermath. Although I live near the St. John's River, my street was spared from the oncoming flood. The cow pasture behind me was a different story. The water rose over the bushes, covering tree trunks. I hoped the slow-moving gopher tortoises escaped to higher ground in time.
As I stood in my front yard, I marveled at the clear blue sky, such a contrast from the previous day with the swirling, powerful winds passing over our house. Two large birds of prey flew overhead. I squinted skyward and the birds lowered altitude, close enough for me to recognize their white heads and brown wings. I heard them whistle to each other and tried to mimic the sound. The bald eagles flew closer to my house. I lifted my arms high and continued to echo their calls.
Goosebumps popped up on my arms as one eagle swooped to only ten feet above me. Fear set in as I realized its talons could rip my fingers off. I lowered my arms and continued to gaze at the duo, swooping and calling to each other. I'd never witnessed bald eagles flying over my neighborhood before. The expansion of the river must have expanded their hunting grounds.
It was months before the St. John's receded to its original banks. Until then, wild boar, deer, raccoons, and other native Florida critters were pushed out of their wilderness homes and into oncoming traffic and run over daily. The aftermath of the hurricane is still being felt by those who lost loved ones and their homes. Not only that but the healthy ecosystem around the St. John's River has been set off kilter from the flooding, which may not recover for years to come.
AFTERMATH
Two bald eagles took wing
After the hurricane
Searching the swollen
St. John’s River bank—
Not the river Jordan
which writhed and repulsed
As Israel crossed—
Bearing the holy ark
Of God's covenant.
On a different note,
The town of Sanford knows
The river dealt such a blow
That eagles found easy prey
Rabbits, racoons, river rats,
All fled as the waters rose
to overflow.
Aftermath© by