Hurricane Blues Too

I shouldn't have written yesterday.
I knew I shouldn't have,
but like usual,
did it anyways,
like I am now.

I shouldn't have written
because I was immobilized.
I couldn't move,
couldn't eat,
couldn't think,
couldn't focus.

How do you eat
when people are so hungry?
How do you drink
when they are thirsty?
I wanted to curse
my own shoes and dry clothing,
my access to a shower
and a bed...
Survivor's guilt,
big time.

It wasn't my family,
but it could of been,
doesn't matter,
because it's somebody's family.

They weren't my memories,
doesn't matter,
they are somebody's.

And they are all of ours.

And I don't know what it's like...
To be the mother that, yes,
stole from a store
to get diapers and food for her kid.
Or to need shoes so badly that,
well, you took them.

Some shoes were made for walking.
Tens of miles up a freeway,
wet and hot,
with hundreds of others
and no where to go.

I just don't know.

But I know I feel sick.