Poetry About Hurricane Maria

Maria crossed the island with a voice that tore roofs from names. Rivers entered houses and left brown lines above the doors. The power grid fell, and night became a country without signals. Neighbors cleared roads with machetes, ropes, and borrowed strength. A refrigerator warmed while medicine and official promises spoiled. Families waited for calls that could not cross the silence.

The power grid fell, and night became a country without signals. Blue tarps multiplied beneath a sky indifferent to paperwork. Mutual aid arrived hand to hand when systems did not. The dead exceeded the first count and every convenient forgetting. Rebuilding meant electricity, roofs, schools, records, and trust. Puerto Rico remembers both abandonment and the people who carried one another.

Maria crossed the island with a voice that tore roofs from names. A refrigerator warmed while medicine and official promises spoiled. Families waited for calls that could not cross the silence. The dead exceeded the first count and every convenient forgetting. Years later, rain can return the body to that September wind. Puerto Rico remembers both abandonment and the people who carried one another.