Like the title suggests... I don't know how to blog but I do however write poetry.
My pictures alone cannot tell the story of how nature ran its course and dropped a bomb of destruction all over New Orleans beating spicy heart. If we ring out our sadness and look past the sinking sights of Katrina's horrible path you can dive and submerse yourself into a rich culture that sucked me in the minute I stepped out the New Orleans international Airport. How is it that if I just stand outside and look up at the sky, I can feel every one's struggle but also find peace that only emerges from a beautiful community. New Orleans is like a body and its people are the organs that keep moving along although Katrina kicked it down recklessly. I hope that I have helped to keep healthy blood in its veins and take a slight load off if its already strained wise back. A stroll down the french quarter is like breathing in a breath of sweet cultural air. Every one's smiles and laughs fill my heart with appreciation. But I look at burdened people and pass the the ancient houses that have been robbed of their beauty and I feel a sense anticipation. With a humbled spirit I pray that my poetry will bring me strength. On my tear stained pages I wrote of the lower ninth ward and how there seems to be hardly any life within every heart that beats from my weakened ribcage and as my knees buckle I am hopeful for the wonderful community to come back and claim their bit of the beautiful world. New Orleans has been imprinted in my mind and like clockwork I will be reminded of its song. May New Orleans rest in life and with that I rest my pen because even the pages in my journal are starting to feel as heavy as my heart.