Journals and September 11

12 years ago today a terrible tragedy happened. I don't know about you, but this morning I spent some time being silent and thinking about those who died that day.



Photo by: hankplank, courtesy of Flickr

I went back to my journal to see what I'd written.

A poem.

Winter Ash

 

In the midst of the darkness

they walked

seeing no one

the dust from the explosion

thick and unyielding

their eyes blinded

a death walk of some kind

 

Whited cheeks

dusty clothes and hair

they grieved

 

Hours later

the dust still gathered

around their fingernails

 

Winter ash

felt its way through buildings

plundered, people killed

a mark of death

 

And yet

fingers clutched and held

spoke words of help

of love

 

In the heavens there was one

who watched

who grieved

who reached through the clouds

to all who could hear

and see