I flip through the pages of photographs,
each detail, enlarging some, peering closer.
Trying to find a person, a puzzle of limbs,
lost in that great moment. I find no one.
Another day goes by, the silver drift
of spirits rise like weightless clouds
of life, spent and flying away from us.
They found an old man clinging to his rooftop
as the house floated away and plucked him
off. It was the first good news I heard
A long boat comes to land filled with toddlers
and one teacher.
More people will be found. Alive, yes alive.
Each one you will count and write about
my heart says.
There will be enough time to gather
what is left of the dead. The coats, dresses,
the torn shirts. We will have time to give
them ceremony and prayers. For now,
we begin the search. We will not stop
until the last hope is slowly and