American flags hang dismally
like forgotten laundry slung across balconies
dirty and betrayed
A grey skin of steam
plumes by the Hudson River
It echoes the smoke in our memory
Something to fill the gap
Where the twin towers stood like brothers
proud against the skyline
mothers search for sons
There is no looking
only seeing, disbelieving
American flags in tatters torn
like skin like someone waving at the moon
It’s so unreachable untouchable
this enemy of life
No amount of kindness or forgiveness
seems enough
When hate itself becomes the sword
that pierces every word and thought
What can dilute the poison draught?
Who can achieve a goal in life
if death itself is the task?
Two cylinders of buildings
where people starting work
carrying coffee, filing letters
are ignited by a spark
Death such as this
makes history itself unworthy
of the task of recording
so many lives lost senselessly
We have this hole in Manhattan to fill
It aches, it kills us still
they all belonged to us you see
now we’re loosed from it
but we don’t feel free
Our question lies uncomfortably
Why not me?
Why not me?
Image : Pixabay - Armelion
From Theresa Le Flem's collection 'Meet Me at Low Tide' available here.
