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.