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Sunday, May 1, 2011

Dust Storm

We see it first,
North bound
From Abu Dhabi,
Spreading
East and west,
Into the distance,
Gradually embracing us.
At first it seems
It might be,
Fog,
Then,
A fine,
Talc like layer forms,
With tiny swirls,
White stuff,
Scurrying over
Everything.
Shamal.
You remember.
They told you
All about these,
But it looks,
Just like fog,
Until you're
In it.
Then,
To the casual
observer,
Talc,
But to machinists,
Lapping compound,
And to unprotected
Machinery,
Slow death.
We close
All water tight doors,
And hatches.
All intakes
Are covered with
Foam,
But it is
Everywhere.
So fine
You cannot
Feel it.
And it will not
Go away.
Innocent at first,
A man soon wraps
His face,
And eyes,
In self defence.
Though we would be
Safer in the pilot house,
The law,
And safety,
Mandate that
We be able
To hear
A fog signal.
Or would it be,
A dust signal?
We pray that it
Will pass
Before dark,
Lest we be plunged
Into a dust filled,
Flat black,
Void.

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