Privileged waiting

Irene approaches.
Hurricane?
Tropical storm?
Whatever.
Irene approaches.

I prepare.
Purchase supplies
Straighten the apartment.
Move and position items.
I prepare.

I wait.
Contacting family and friends.
Tweeting, posting.
Pacing, writing.
I wait.

And the waiting reminds
of the privileges that are mine.

I could have left,
friends would host me,
I chose to stay.

Unlike some whose circumstances
limit their choices,
options were mine.

Unlike some whose choice
was taken away:
New York has not
abandoned me,
devalued me
left me behind
on a landfill-created island
because of what I have done,
what I have been accused of doing,
or where I work,
options were mine.

I chose to stay.

I have a place, a solid place,
a roof above,
walls around;
I have funds to buy supplies;
water, flashlights, candles,
food that needs no cooking.

I have so much,
and others have but little,
still others none at all.

I wait.
And the waiting reminds me
of the privileges that are mine.

I wait.
And I wonder,
after the waiting,
what I will do differently
with the privileges that are mine?

27 August 2011
Shire on the Hudson