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  November 2015
volume 12 number 2
-table of contents-
  home   (archived)
  contributing poets
  Sheikha A.
  M.I Akande
  Gwyndyn Alexander
  Prerna Bakshi
  Gary Beck
  Stefanie Bennett
  Deborah Edler Brown
  Jeffrey Bryant
  Terry Clark
  Robin Wyatt Dunn
  Amitabh Vikram Dwivedi
  Hedy Habra
  Dave Houston
  Trista Hurley-Waxali
  Robert S King
  Marie Lecrivain
  Emma Lee
  Ron Lucas
  Frank Mundo
  Scott Thomas Outlar
  Angel Uriel Perales
  James G Piatt
  Frank Praeger
  Hattie Quinn
  John D Robinson
  john saunders
  Apryl Skies
  Julia Stein
  Jonathan Taylor
  Amy Uyematsu
  J.T. Whitehead
  mailing list
Gwyndyn Alexander
November 2015



photo by franᅵois biajoux

    Gwyndyn T. Alexander (1969- ) was born in San Francisco, but moved to New Orleans and never looked back. In 2005, she lost her house and job and her library to the Great Levee Failure. After ten years of exile in Texas, she has now returned home to New Orleans.
Gwnydyn T Alexander



Poet In Atlantis

I watched my world end,
not in Frost's fire or ice,
but water...
the New Atlantis.

My city was silent and dark,
crowned with a million stars;
too distant for comfort, they kept their secrets.

No music in the streets,
no songs in the air,
just gunshots, echoing,
announcing yet another
pointless death.

My raucous city,
so often filled with melody,
with insects' songs,
with laughter,
died in silence...
no angels' trumpets
heralding the end,
just the lapping of water
against the rooftops.

For four days
my city rocked in its cradle
of foul seas.

We were orphaned children of the storm,
alone, without aid save each other,
no hope, no help, no word
from the larger world.
We embraced each other,
offered food and shelter
to so many who had none.

We were alone together,
abandoned or forgotten
by our mother country.

We stretched out our hands,
but no one grasped them.

And on the fifth day we received
not food, not aid,
but men with guns.

Our silent nights were shattered
by roaring machines
tearing the skies,
sending us fear, hot winds, accusations.

And now, displaced,
exiled from our paradise,
we watch our city from a distance,
helpless, but full of hope.

Our city will rise form the deeps,
we will bring her back.

Once again, our streets will resonate
with music and laughter.
We will be home again, together,
beneath our stars.

We are our city's heart,
broken but on the mend,
and we will beat strong.

In love and in hope, we will sing
as we build.
And we will rise,
beautiful and bright,
casting light
into all the shadows.

And the city will rejoice,
our carnival of defiance,
reborn, renewed,

copyright 2015 Gwyndyn Alexander