STANDING IN LINE
By: Barbara Goodjoin
Sun and clouds and an occasional breeze
dance across my face pushing my hair in crazy waves
that have no self-control or will of its own.
Looking around to see who is there with me
standing in line not for food and water,
but for a few precious minutes of electricity
to power a phone or laptop.
To connect with a friend or mother or other
and let them know that I survived
this disastrous calamity known as
an “act of God”, a” force of nature,”
a storm of “biblical proportions.”
Standing in line pondering the important
question, “how does one know
what biblical proportions are?”
Standing in line, looking around to see
if there is anyone dirtier than me…
No clean clothes to change into—
mismatched shoes on my feet.
My odor, the smell of devastation and fear,
overwhelms even me, I keep my arms close…
until I am next in line.
I reach for the plug to connect
to the electric juice of power
that is, right now, more important
to me than food or drink.
Eagerly trembling with the need
to speak with a friendly face
that seems to be worlds away.
Just to tell them I am alive
and though I have lost everything,
I am okay.
Standing in line. I can smile as I
move on to the next line
for water and food; another
line for clothes; and another line
for a place to sleep; a shelter to
stay until I am back on my feet
to stand in line once more.