Found While Mudlarking: "Tempest"

I found this poem, perfectly typed out, in a journal.

The date is March 30, 2003.

The day the United States invaded Iraq.



Tempest

A tempest blows in Florida.
     I walk as the clouds gather
        dark, foreboding, yet lightning free

Until I round the bend
      to the lake and the
        wind whips my hair back

A great blue heron
     symbol of aggression
          is up to its feathers in water

In deep, trying to escape
     what is coming -- me.
           The wind blows harder

The fountain spray flails
    like so much holy water
          on the holy war to come

Jihad for those who are
     pre-emptive and assumptive
         and arrogant of all

The world should be.
   I see a tree, the last
     remaining flowers and

The bottom branch, broken, hanging
           swaying in the wind.