Kiss the Caterpillar Good-bye
For all who have ever helped disaster survivors anywhere, please accept my deep gratitude for what you have done in the form of this poem I wrote for those who had come to help us.
Like Magi, You Have Come . . .
Sandra Lynn Price
Written on the first anniversary of Katrina,
published in Presbyterians Today, Volume 96, number 10, December 2006
First we waited…
Waited for the waters to recede and highways to be cleaned,
Waited for ice and water and food,
Waited for gasoline and electricity,
for toilets that flush,
for fresh water from a glass
right out of our own taps.
We waited . . .
Surrounded by huge fallen trees blocking our flooded houses,
Or shocked by lonely slabs where house and trees once stood,
Sickened by the stench of sardine cans, burst open,
standing in Gulf water,
our favorite jeans reeking of mold,
our precious books soaked, rotting,
the stash of shrimp in the freezer reeking.
Fearing snakes, the squatters in our homes.
Our little girl’s baby dolls and our little boys’ silver trucks
washed into the Gulf.
Stunned, grieving, helpless, we waited…
never before helpless, helpless now.
Then you came.
Like Magi you came,
Journeying far,
Bringing gifts to the One who said,
Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these,
you have done it unto me.
A steady stream, you came.
Bringing gold and frankincense and myrrh
In the form of ice and water and casseroles,
Gasoline, generators, baby wipes, diapers,
Charged power lines and blue electric boxes
White pipe and purple plumber’s glue.
You sent handmade quilts and shawls,
tea towels and purple bath towels,
sheets, jeans and tennis shoes,
coats of many colors, washers and dryers,
treasured books, chairs and sofas,
money and food and gift cards to refurnish our lives, art works created in love.
Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these,
you have done it unto me.
Still you come, bringing gifts to the Carpenter,
Wearing masks and gloves and boots,
Wielding crowbars, hammers, screw drivers and love.
Tearing out walls and insulation, cabinets and carpets.
You’ve demolished our rotting houses,
Hauling to the debris piles on the street
our beds, chairs, sofas, fridges, stoves, freezers,
washers, dryers, clothes, and endless papers of our lives.
You’ve replaced our roofs, changed our wiring,
painted our walls.
Hearing the words of the Teacher beating the drums of your hearts:
Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these,
you have done it unto me.
You’ve come with gloved hands and tender, vigilant eyes,
Searching diligently for our treasures amid the rubble and debris.
Reverently you have brought your finds to us,
Knowing each shard of our lives is precious, sacred treasure.
You’ve sanitized our dishes and our wooden furniture;
Carefully packed what could be saved.
You’ve restored our wicker.
You’ve planted flowers to bring us joy.
You’ve looked at us with compassion.
You’ve hugged us with affection,
Serving the Shepherd who cares for His flock.
Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these,
you have done it unto me.
Like Magi you’ve come bearing gifts
To the strong and the weak,
To the rich and the poor,
To the strong and the frail,
To the fearful and the brave,
To all of us brought to our knees
in tearful gratitude,
The words of the Healer echoing in your hearts:
Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these,
you have done it unto me.
You’ve brought the Hope of Advent,
The loving works of the Carpenter,
The living lessons of the Teacher,
The gentle care of the Shepherd
The transforming Grace of our Healer,
The loving looks of Christ.
You have brought Resurrection.
Freely you have given; may you freely receive.
May you know the depth of gratitude we feel.
May you overflow with the Grace, Hope, Joy, Love
you have brought to us.
Inasmuch as you have done it to one of the least of these,
you have done it unto me.
Presbyterians Today, Volume 96, number 10, December 2006
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