I  wrote this poem when we lived in Oakland.  This is a few days after what is known as the ghost fire, a terribly sad accident that killed 36 people, broke our hearts, such promising young people, artists, musicians and all sorts of creative people having a little fun when tragedy struck.

A lovely easy
boho chic
evening of
dancing, of wine
with friends.
and admiring artwork,
Persian carpets
hang over the
whole warehouse.
The musicians
are filling
the space with
trendy, cool music,
music that makes
you jump and sway
to the constant beat,
and then panic
fire, too many
people, chaos running
towards the door.
An evening
becomes an evening
of terror-
too many people
single file stairs
a building not up
to code.
A terrible loss-
the young, the cool,
the creative
appreciators of art.
Young people just
wanting to have a
good time.
Broken hearts, painful
thoughts, of having
no escape,
of being stuck.
Their loved ones
suffer the torturous
thoughts of the
living, when they
know their loved ones
died in pain, panic and terror.
Tears of loss,
piles of flowers
and for possibly
hours the difficulty
of not knowing
who was in the warehouse
and who didn’t make it out.
Then sadness
for the friends, lovers,
parents, husbands and wives.
The loss is catastrophic.
Thirty-six people gone,
pain for now, acceptance later
and maybe, just maybe,
some sort of lessons learned.
Goodwill comes out
of the difficulties.
We will remember you by pushing
for safety and codes.
We will not forget you
and a party that turned to
sorrow and tragedy.

Jewel Roberts  12-4-2016