The Hurricane started.

She came into their home,

Playing a “victim”,

Causing disharmony amongst MY role models.

They did not know,

That they were my hero’s.

They did not know,

I adored each of them,

Mentally, spiritually…even sexually.

But I kept my distance.

THEY were meant for each other.

They radiated love,

From within themselves,

         To each other,

         To friends,

         And to all those they called “family”.

They gave of themselves,

Sacrificed for the other,

         For their friends,

         For their community.

They were the picture of wedded bliss…

A rose in God’s own flower garden,

That He alone took special pride in.

I was once warned of the Hurricane too,

         By her sister,

         By her mother,

         By her old boyfriend,

         By an old girl-friend.

My life sat in ruins,

For a long while.

After this Hurricane left me,

After I fell victim…

I wrote constantly…incessantly…

Sending my words to my beloved friends.

Including my hero’s.

I languished,

Thinking my hero’s did not like me,

Or even respected me any longer.

But that was a perception of mine at the time.

Of course, I did not tell them in any uncertain terms,

How I had felt about them….and I sat a long while in silence.

Tormented by my own loss,

                       My own loneliness,

                       My own rage,

                       My own hurt,

                       My own sorrow,

                       My own grief.

I felt raw as if bludgeoned to death.

But then,

As I just recovered a bit,

From my ordeal,

Getting my life back,

Having things in order,

Then the Hurricane walks into MY church,

With my hero, on her arm.

I thought it was a power-play.


My hero’s could not have listened to my words—

My lengthy bundles of poetry.

Because the Hurricane,

My old flame,

Was already in their home.

I reeled back in shock,

The day I figured out that it was true,

My hero’s had broken up…

And one became victim to the Hurricane.

Just like a Hurricane,

I found scatterings.

Just one name on a contact list,

A photo in a dating ad,

The return address of the Hurricane on parcel,

Sent to MY ex-wife.

I am numb for myself,

Grieving another loss.

I am bracing for my hero to come to me,

She will want to know,

All the things of the Hurricane…

What was it she fell in love with beyond

    The Delusions?

              --Erotomatic (sexual)

              --Somatic (physical)

              --Persecutory  (threatened by law, or stalked)

              --Grandiose (thinking enormously of oneself)

    Her PTSD.

All this is confirmed.

The experts had no reason to continue the exam…

Being military,

You don’t put a gun in a hand,

Of people whom you think are out to get you…


That is within the uniform and without.

The military, could not be responsible for allowing deaths,

Caused by friendly fire—when they knew the risk.

But upon investigation,

From the cities the Hurricane has hit,

The devastation left behind…

The hurricane picked up the debris,

         Of Schizotypal Disorder,

         Of Borderline Personality Disorder,

         And Facticious  Disorder.

This hurricane hits,

Once, every nine months.

It has taken me five to recover.

My hero has five to six months to go, if that.

Now, I have not only built my house farther up the hill,

But my heart is no longer within eye-sight,

                         No longer on my sleeve.

I’m an admirer,

And I keep in contact with my hero…

The one who survived the hurricane.

And I am waiting for the one who fell victim…

I pray that perhaps, one day, they’ll come back to the middle.

And “choose” to let their relationship outlast Hurricane Lynn.

Who knows, maybe I’ll end up being their hero,

Just because I recorded the facts…the story…maybe they’ll see—

That Hurricane Lynn is a force,

Even she is incapable to harness or maintain.

And they’ll look beyond her…

As if she is just another Wrath of  Nature’s cruelties.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Hurricane Lynn, my ex, is just that...By the time the relationship ends, you don't know what about her is real, and what is not.  She appears to be "competant" of her actions--but it's all reptillian reaction to the mental illness in her head.  When it ends it's cycle for a moment, she has to lie to try and reach "center": never making it back to truth.
It's one thing to be a victim of Hurricane Lynn myself--but she broke up at least a 12 year relationship, something I find rare, in any form, gay, straight, or inbetween.  The two women I speak of that were married here, sacrificed tremendous financial debt as they provided a service to the Gay-Les-Bi community, for the sake of that community.  Not many people I know would make an endeavor to choose to acrue debt because they felt they were giving to their community.  Even as one is with Hurricane Lynn, I will always respect her for this.  And I pray that she is not another victim of Hurricane Lynn.  But the lies are already evident, and the end is already coming if Hurricane Lynn is true to form.  On a note beyond Hurricane Lynn--I am no longer bitter, because she truely has no scope of her actions or what they mean.  She is in survival mode of her own problems, and really doesn't see that she is like a wounded elephant, trampling on anything around it, the good and the bad.  Unfortunately, women like porcelain dolls don't stand a chance with a bewildered Animal of that size.  If you pray, pray for my ex, to get help and stop the Wrath.  Pray for the victims, there have been many before me...unfortunately, there will be at least one more.  In God's hope & peace...stay well, and love one another.

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Ruth Lovejoy's picture

excellent piece , Ive also written three different pieces on Katrina myself