i wrote this about the man who lost his wife, hardy jackson. he was holding onto his wife but the hurricane was too strong and pulled her out of his grasp. the man's anguish was just . . . palpable. he sobbed, "I'm lost. that was everything I had," as he held a frightened looking boy to his side. i cried. it was just a tragic story.
you can see the anguish written on his threadbare skin,
his wife's last words still framed on his lips,
(you can't hold onto me.)
the weary shift of skin and bones as the hollowed out husk of a man
wraps a protective arm around a bewildered boy.
the boy's eyes are haunted with
his last memories of his mother
against the sky,
an angel flying without wings.