A huge limb torn off the tree?
More light comes in.
The wind and the rain
were as a hand sweeping hair
from where it had grown over
our eyes; we see now what’s important,
and the house shall be condemned
so a new house can be built.
You can make a disaster
into as many metaphors as you desire
but loss is loss. Pain is pain.
I could give you images to describe it,
concrete and solid and sharp,
but all they would do is cut and crush and cut some more.
Get your pen out of the way
and pick up a hammer. Put a blanket
on someone’s cold shaking shoulders,
and put a sock in it while you’re at it.