Tornado
years ago i heard the roar
of a tornado at night
and our big oak tree tumbled over
houses splintered in pieces
but we survived
what is poetry but the words
from life splintered in pieces
broken glass in memories
where i can still see your face
and hear our conversations
you were from the valley in texas
and as you smiled
i remember you telling me that
i looked like your grandfather
who was from an indian tribe in
northern mexico
that same evening
ceasar chavez spoke
as we sat together in church
together for what is right
sunlight in freedom's choice
the freedom to speak simply
and to be heard
if poverty and racism are
only politically uncorrect words
breathing in and breathing out
in the silence
there is still the roar
of the tornado at night
our random twisting paths
being uprooted
my journey carries me to j-town
and with the beating taiko
moonlight through my window
after the storm
its circle touches my future
pulling out my past and prayers
i haven't forgotten
// © by wataru ebihara
of a tornado at night
and our big oak tree tumbled over
houses splintered in pieces
but we survived
what is poetry but the words
from life splintered in pieces
broken glass in memories
where i can still see your face
and hear our conversations
you were from the valley in texas
and as you smiled
i remember you telling me that
i looked like your grandfather
who was from an indian tribe in
northern mexico
that same evening
ceasar chavez spoke
as we sat together in church
together for what is right
sunlight in freedom's choice
the freedom to speak simply
and to be heard
if poverty and racism are
only politically uncorrect words
breathing in and breathing out
in the silence
there is still the roar
of the tornado at night
our random twisting paths
being uprooted
my journey carries me to j-town
and with the beating taiko
moonlight through my window
after the storm
its circle touches my future
pulling out my past and prayers
i haven't forgotten
// © by wataru ebihara