time capsule. I wrote this after the second plane hit on 9-11-01. I was unable to work on it over the next few days - It was simply too raw in my gut to reflect. I put it in a sealed envelope and wrote "open on 9-11-16" My intention was to re-write this into a poem. I find I cannot add or subtract anything. It is still too raw.
darkness (9-11-01)
the sun scatters ash
inches thick on the cool streets
ash climbs to the sun
and darkens the morning sky
I will live on for a long time
in the shadows of the city
two airplanes at right angles
to disappeared towers
past travelers trembling swirling
apparitions with lasting scents
veins humming with distant
voices marking the pavement
there is no looking back
this is truly left waiting for phrases
more remote than the years
on the other side of the earth
blood dries amid wilted brambles
in deserted solitude of wanderers
crushed brick dust explosions build
fragmented grime gardens down alleys
stone pieces float through the thick air
chewed by workers breathing lungfuls
broken glass piles up in entrances
no longer useful for escape
silence is sure yet impossible
as screams form in asphyxiating minds
struggling for breath once the airline bombs
ignored the bodies still present in the city
kneeling in prayer for survival once the moldy
smell of stone wet by firehoses dries
the engines ceased roaring and no one noticed
