All the King's Horses and All the King's Men- A New Orleans Tribute

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the King’s horses and all the King’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.

With her African-Creole-Native-Cajun-Honduran-French-Spanish roots her allure is found in the rich languages, the beginnings of jazz, the rebellions of the enslaved, a taste and a flavor all her own. She is filled with a magical-spiritual strength that remains so unique in this proclaimed ‘melting pot nation’. She watches from her walls as cultures are created and hope is born. Romance, work and play are the landmarks of her city. A seaside community deeply connected to the earth, to its history, to its future.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

The first nudge came from the storm- a powerful wind and pelting waves. But this was not enough to make her topple. She held strong until the walls crumbled in and 17 feet of water surged her land injecting her dazzling world with a most painful death.

The King and all of his men promised that no destruction would befall her city. The walls were built to last, they insisted. Sit tight, this too will pass. Sit tight, help is on its way. As the city sat in wait, she was shoved by the king but hung by her fingernails as her people ran to their rooftops awaiting rescue; shoved into the dome only to suffocate in the sweltering heat; left for dead in a drowned city with no food; and no water except for the gallons that were not welcome.

So many of those who survived were forced to leave the cracked city; a new diaspora of the poor and oppressed to cities filled with strangers; families divided and loved ones never to be seen again. The cries echo in her ears- children left alone on the streets, the elderly unable to fend for themselves, the mothers and fathers in panic searching for any familiar face.

All the King’s horses and all the King’s men

After the devastation has passed, she opens her eyes only to find branches shoved through the windows of homes thrown from their original plots; cars flipped on their hoods crushing playground equipment; teddy bears separated from their owners and laying yards from any safe bedroom. A bulletin board lists the names of the missing as her people gather in a vain attempt to find the lost. Laid out on the earth, she waits still for the promised aid. Broken shell and oozing yolk are all that remain as families await their ‘temporary’ trailers that will house them for years to come.

Surrounded by homes marked with the number of dead discovered, she cries tears that rip through the earth and will resonate for generations begging the King and his men to save her from this unnecessarily tragic fate. Instead she is handed promises of ‘redevelopment’ by the wealthy and for the wealthy all for sale to the highest bidder. There is desperation wherever she looks- destroyed history, hungry children, parents now too far removed from this reality to care for more than their new found addictions or the continuous thoughts of ending their time in this life.

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

The intensity of the nothing is palpable. The silence pierces her ears. Where there was once the laughter of children, dogs barking, the shuffle of pedestrians, engines humming, there remains just the sense of something more- the spirit of this once great city. Years have passed and her land remains isolated and half the population ripped from their roots. The survivors who remain keep their eyes open for the signs of change and watch as the King and his men send their dollars to fight for oil rights and they remain jobless, homeless, school-less, and, more and more, hopeless.

As she attempts to place her pieces back into a whole, a movement catches her eye- a small unexpected growth. A magnolia sprouting spring time buds in the fall, soon to generate a rush of seeds. This magnolia is working out of turn and at its maximum speed to create an out of season growth that will hope to replace all that was lost.