After Shock

the kids cling to us days after broken bottles a shattered clay skull novels scattered paintings hang askew they are still afraid and our words of comfort rupture trust with each aftershock

After the Quake [Originally Written after a 5.9 in Anchorage December 3, 2012]

[Originally Written in December 3, 2012 -- and perhaps all the more relevant.] Peering Down at What Could Be a Cold, Dark City. From here on this crisp clear night in Bear Valley, far up on the mountain from the twinkling lights of Anchorage, I am trying not to imagine what I could be seeing --- nothing but dark, perhaps a few structure fires --- had the recent quake 5.9 quake been anything but a little hiccup compared to the devastation wrought by the 1964 Good Friday Earthquake. We would be sitting around a warm woodstove, our small living-room lit only by the flicker from the fire. The emergency radio would be on, though I wonder who or what would be transmitting if the powergrid susta

Copyright Don Rearden...All rights reserved.  Whatever that means. 

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