A remembered skyline’s spectral spires, extinguished in a moment by strange, unnatural fires set ablaze through hatred’s genius guile, are now but missing teeth in a city’s smile.
No trace but the shattered cairns remain above the residue of life ended in pain; souls who so lately lived and moved, found being in the greatness of something that loved them not.
So hot, the dripping steel and fallen broken bodies on the street congeal among the wreckage of yesterday’s great symbols of the age, now the footprint of today’s alien hate; a direct, impersonal message delivered by rubble in the city streets and smoke stains on the urban sky.
I noticed a lot of search hits looking for September 11 poetry, so I figured I’d post this today.
