"Mortui Vivis Praecipiant," Latin for "Let the Dead Teach the Living."
A sign that is in the Federal Emergency Management Agency's temporary morgue for Hurricane Katrina victims.

Harold and his Purple Crayon

Where is Harold with his purple crayon when you need him?

After he drew himself out of his life,
from black and white to color,
he found what he discovered was much better –
a perfect world.

If I had the magic purple crayon
I would draw a bridge over the toxic waters.

Maybe it would be a new and improved purple crayon,
with a flashlight at the end of it, a beacon to find
the children, dogs and life trapped.
Children displaced, without mothers or fathers; parents who’ve lost children.

I would draw a net to capture the dogs roaming the streets,
make their home a safe place instead of the tops of flooded cars, crypts.
the dogs barking for miles, echoing, never answered.

Maybe even draw a strong metal lock that would have held the levy waters in.

The astrodome would never have filled
to capacity,
I would have added additions to it, expanded it,
room by room,
sharpening my crayon as needed.

I would softly, respectfully bury
the dead,
mark each tombstone with a name
instead of the title “refugee”.

Instead, Harold and his crayon are gone,
the dead may outnumber the living
25,000 body bags waiting
and we are left with visions of gore,
floating bodies and blood.

We are now as familiar with these as the creases of our palms,
the bitten edges of nails, the hardness of smiles.

We had been taught to color inside
the lines,and to venture out of that box was unknown.
We knew of pain and loss and grieved for what might have been.
But would stay inside the lines drawn,
would venture out to the very tips
of them,
coloring our world purple and black,
and shade night onto the New Orleans street like a tattooed arm.