September 11

And heavy like a hand of steel
death slammed down on the heads
of its chosen.  Every skull a clap
of bone and light.  Every soul
a ribbon twisting around the other

reaching up and out.

And sound, not like sound
a brilliant star exploding into many
pieces- singing, crying, shouting,
breathing.  Remembering who
they'd been and what their hearts

had given.

Then dry, fine dust was all
they left for those they loved-
a cloud of dream and hope
and freedom.

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