John S. Eustis is a retired librarian living in Virginia with his wife.  After growing up in Michigan and upstate New York, he enjoyed a long, quiet federal career in Washington, D.C.  His poems have appeared in the Atlanta Review and Lighten Up Online.

The latest hurricane, a Category Four,

has the same name as my ex-wife,

so whenever the news is on, it comes up

over and over, usually in the context

of how much destruction it is causing—

homes demolished, communities

wiped out, sturdy trees uprooted.

It’s an odd name, not seen much these days,

used more in our grandparents’ generation

(my ex was an ancestor’s namesake).

So it’s a bit jarring to turn on the TV

and hear that word again and again.

They talk about the devastation in its wake

and that sounds about right—the misery,

the wailing, the displacement, all strike a chord.

Only when they bring up the death toll

does it start to feel excessive, overstated.

Let’s turn our focus then to the survivors,

the mopping up, rebuilding, heroic efforts

to rescue pets and people, power restored.

As bad as it seems now, we’ll get through this.