Sometimes the unfortunates
have the finest views,
clouds rolling in a distant valley,
a hawk swooping down on green meadow,
the rich man gazing out on rooftops
and opportunities.

It isn’t nature who decides
who lives in the wild,
who lives in the penthouse.

Chance and weather conditions
may choose the tornados path,
but humans build their homes
on fault lines.

In Afghanistan, a 6.1 earthquake.
Mudslides bury the living and the dead.

In Oklahomaa, a 5.8 temblor
tumbled chimneys,
loosened ceiling tiles in classrooms,
shut down businesses for repairs,
cracked my tile floor.
No one died.

It wasn’t nature, but circumstances.

Perhaps it’s your lot in life
to live in your own space, among old trees.
Maybe you’re in a refugee camp,
dependent of the kindness of strangers
and the whims of an autocrat.

Nature is ruthless,
but she can’t take all the blame
for human choices,
for economic circumstances,
for the damage the powerful can wreak
on the powerless.