Thank You
        After W.S. Merwin

Listen—
In exhausted dawn silence, damp rising mist, we are
thinking—thank you. We are waking, counting our
dead, weighing up damage, picking slow way through
glass, seeking water, finding food, and thinking, thank you.
We do not look at the sky, the windows are gone, standing
in water we look down, then out, and think thank you—still.

There is no news, no current and the phones have no charge.
The cars are not where we left them, the roads, bridges and
safety rails are gone, but we go on thinking thank you. Police
are armed but not beating our doors; they are not home, not
at the station, but guarding the stores—thank you, we think.
Past and future do not yet exist and we think, thank you.

We do not hear birds but see forest blown down, rivers rage.
Our faces dead, drained, we hardly remember our names,
but trust us—we feel still—thankful. In this now morning
after, this brutal wake-up silence, this downsidetippedup
outsidenowin we are deciphering, thank you thank you: if
only for these two words we all still easily re-call for now.
Listen—

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Copyright © 2022 Celia A Sorhaindo All rights reserved
from Guabancex
Papillote Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission