OCTOBER THIRD TWO THOUSAND ONE
Now I know what death smells like,
it is stuck in my throat, lacing my lungs.
With every inhale I absorb its ominous fragrance.
Ominous because this cloak of death was black,
oh such a black day.
She has many moods,
some times when she has passed by
it can be a beautiful thing a release,
some day we will all experience
her distinctive delicate scent
and hopefully lay in peace.
But as I pass by these streets
where she was unwelcomed I see
ethereal hands clawing from the ruins to be freed.
Twisted metal settles on the soil of the damned
and whines a crying song as it bends and burns….
6000 filled in yearns.
I see some wander, still confused, perplexed,
bemused dazed shouting to be seen.
Frustrated souls that left home
that fateful morning—wherever that may be.
Some who argued with a mate
and with bated breath hesitated to apologize,
forgot to kiss their children,
call a friend to postpone a date
now wait to be exorcised.
This place of rubble and ash
is now once again recognized as holy ground,
like a bridge over shallow waters
I will lay me down.
I see you, I won’t forget.
You will Not BE FORGOTTEN!
And in my day’s end
when I look around my place of last
I will once again greet Lady Death with a smile
as she comes to pass.
I will ask her why on that 11th Autumn morning
did take them all away?
She will smile and say “They called upon me that day."