New Orleans Poetry



Hurricane Katrina




          I went on two mission trips to New Orleans with my high school over the last few years.  We worked for a whole week helping to rebuild houses that were destroyed in hurricane Katrina.  There is still so much damage that hasn't been repaired and so many people who still haven't been able to go home even after six years.  The media has moved on and so Americans forget that people are still suffering.  Many of the locals were so stunned that volunteers were still coming to help them, especially a bunch of teenagers.  They couldn't understand that not only were we there when most students were having a relaxing spring break, but that we were there because we wanted to. 



New Orleans Museum

          Some of my favorite memories include going to the Katina Museum.  We went there my first year on our last day before we left on the plane.  It was beyond anything the best museum I'd ever been to.  Everyone who goes to New Orleans should have to stop and visit.  It was an incredibly moving experience.  Every single one of us, even the high school boys and the dads were crying.  Another thing I loved was a preacher who had our whole group spontaneously singing Amazing Grace for all of Cafe du Monde.  It was freezing cold my first time.  Every day was around 30 degrees F with about a 27 degree wind chill.  We had only one heater and we put it in what would be the bathroom of the house we were working on.  During breaks we'd huddle in there, all 15 of us in this tiny little room trying to keep warm.  I spent a lot of my time under the house digging holes so I was at least out of the wind.  But I went numb after the first few minutes.  The parents took us to get hot chocolate or coffee twice a day.  Once we even drove around in the big van during lunch just so we could have the heater on.  There was a Goodwill that we stopped by several times just to get more layers to keep warm.  The second year, a lot of people were sick, including our leader Mrs. McCrady.  We all worked together to get things done and take care of each other.  It was like a huge family.  

Cafe Du Monde

          I love Mrs. McCrady.  She's an English teacher at the high school and she's super funny.  You can definitely tell that she had a lot of older brothers growing up.  She's sarcastic and hilarious and strict, but in a no-nonsense amusing way.  

          My first year there I wrote a poem one night while sitting on my air mattress.  They put it on the website where they put updates everyday for the parents.  I got so much wonderful feedback for it that I entered it in an annual big Library writing contest.  I won second place in the poetry division.  The only sad part was that to enter it in the contest, I had to limit it to 20 lines.  I kept both versions because I liked the original version best.  This is the long version:

Building Ships

Down in New Orleans

Down by the levy

The hammers are knocking

The wheelbarrows are rolling

The bricks are piling

The cement is pouring

The paint is drying

The drills are buzzing

Walls go up

As the waters

Go down.

In the sun

In the rain

In the heat

In the sleet

We’re building

Drilling

Stacking

Sawing

Screwing

Nailing

Painting

Lifting

Digging

Measuring

Carrying…

Building

But what exactly?

A house appears

Slowly

As if emerging from a mist

Walls, foundation, roof, windows, door.

But that’s not

What we’re building.

For we build ships

Big and small

Grand and poor

All lasting longer

Than any structure would.

In the ships we build

People sail

They leave the island

Where they’ve been trapped

For so long

They sail home,

With songs of joy,

In the ships we build.

But the best ships of all

No one will ever see

No one will ever sail

For we’re building friendships

We build houses

With our hammers and nails

And in between  the blows

When the tools are silent

We build our friendships.

We build structures

With boards and bricks

However,

It’s everything but

The act of building

That truly builds

The ships.

          This is what I wrote at the bottom to explain my thoughts:

I was thinking of how the physical work we do isn’t what’s important.  It’s what we do while we build and in between the work that truly builds things that will last longer than houses.  Whether it is a relationship with the homeowner,  your classmates, yourself, or God, the invisible things that you build are infinitely stronger.  If the world suddenly vanished, we’d still exist.  Our physical bodies would be gone.  We’d have no houses, no food, no water.  But we’d still have unbreakable chains holding us to each other and to God.  Wood and brick are just a symbol of the greater things that we are building that will last forever.

- Darlee Hart-

           A few weeks later I wrote this while thinking of the people's great strength and the ruined houses with nothing left but a pair of front steps that I'd seen.

Stairs to Nowhere

(written shortly after my New Orleans trip)

Life is a stairway.

At birth you start

With only your foundations.

Throughout the years

You work your way up

Higher and higher

As your life grows.

Down in New Orleans

Just last week

I saw some stairs

Made of gray concrete.

They led up

To a lot of nowhere.

The house that had once stood

Was completely gone.

Only the front stairs

Were left to show

Where someone’s world

Used to be.

For those people

Their life’s stair

Had collapsed

Before their feet.

They couldn’t go on.

They couldn’t go back.

The fear was crushing.

The anger was bitter.

The grief was sharp.

I cried for them.

My heart ached

Empathizing

Feeling their pain.

I wasn’t sure

I’d survive the blow

If I stood

In their shoes.

Then I saw something

That astounded me.

I saw the multitudes

Crippled by tragedy

Rise back to their feet.

The stairs before them

Were still crumbled

Beyond recognition.

They reached down

Back to their foundations

Past everything

That had been built

Upon it.

From it

They drew strength.

Their eyes lit

With new courage

And faith

Made only stronger

 By the grief.

Slowly

Oh so slowly

They sorted through

The debris

Of once had been

Their lives.

Stone by stone

They rebuilt the stair

Before them

And continued up

On their journey. 

The steps they built

Were at first

Feeble and shaky.

They tottered

Nearly falling.

Suddenly others

Hundreds and hundreds

Of caring souls

Reached out

Helping hands

To aid the injured.

They supported them

And assisted

In the rebuilding

I watched with

Deep admiration.

Before I knew it

My hands had joined

The rebuilders.

But we’d never

 Have succeeded

Without the firm

And unshakable

Foundation

They had built upon

In the Lord.

God bless.

Build your

Foundation

On his word.

Climb your

Life’s stairs.

And one day

They’ll end

At his doorstep

Right where

We all started.

God bless you

As you climb.

          The people of New Orleans had an inner strength that they had to fall back and rely on when everything else was taking away

.  Many of them really had to rely on their faith in God.  It was all they had left.  God's love was the only thing that had been with them their whole lives and would never be taken from them.  It was the foundation that they had built everything on and that they once again had to reach down to.  One can't help but be amazed by the strength of the people and their gratefulness and cheerfulness in the face of tragedy.  It makes you think...would I be as strong as them in their position?  Would I be able to smile like that and crack jokes in my southern drawl like my world hadn't been altered forever?  Would you?