I saw people from my past today

There used to be a hurricane here

So I packed up and I left town

Running from emotional debris and water damage

I stayed away when things got rough,

But I couldn’t avoid old problems,

Not even in a brand new place.

That new place hit me worse than the hurricane wind

And I was the wind to people who’d never seen a storm

Category 5, and reckless, and razing

But I stopped being the ghost of bad weather

just long enough to find my footing again

So I’ve come back to the town that fucked me the first time

and found that there is nothing left that did me in

If lava becomes an island, then my hurricanes, a river

that my troubles have sailed away on

And as I confront those people,

Face to face with the river between,

I find that there is no debris:

Only bubbles emerge from the water

To tell me there is life therein.