|
|
 |
Just Brown:
by Vincent Sylvain
The following is something I wrote while sitting in the car
outside of my home during my first visit to New Orleans following
hurricane Katrina. I don't remember the date but it was a few weeks
after the hurricane. - Vincent Sylvain
All of my life I have associated the color black with death. Black
cat, black widow spiders, black coffins . . . I was wrong.
Last week I visited my Katrina damaged neighborhood in New Orleans East.
No trees, no birds, no children. Just Brown.
Now I know that the color of death is Brown. Brown. Just Brown.
My church, my red brick house, my red car, my green grass, my child's
playground. Dust, sand, dried human waste; Brown. Just Brown.
A pack of wild dogs that used to be pets. Light brown, dark brown, red
brown, I feared them. Just Brown
Then I saw a white dog. Well, he used to be white, but now covered with
Katrina's brown dirt. Just Brown.
He looked hungry. As luck would have it, all I had was a brown pretzel.
Just Brown.
I tried to feed him, but he feared me. So I left the brown food. Just
Brown.
Morrison Road, Downman Road, Haynes Blvd., Crowder Blvd. The bank, the
grocery, Kenilworth Mall, The Plaza, Six Flags. Just Brown.
The lakes, the sidewalks, the alleys. Lake Willow, Spring Lake, Joe
Brown Park. Just Brown.
My sofa, my chair, my gray carpet. My child's dolls, my child's books,
my child's picture, my child's favorite purple blanket; Brown. Just
Brown.
On the way back I had a near fatal car accident. I closed my eyes. Guess
what? Just Brown
Last week I visited my neighborhood in New Orleans East. No trees, no
birds, no children. Just Brown.
Now I know color of death; Brown. Just Brown
|
