Monday, September 12, 2005

POEM - September 11, 2005

It was a morning just like this one
It was a storm eye that never reveals
Chaos below –
Instead, it just waited for
Synchronized grief
To be come so fashionable
All Along Eighth Avenue,
The Chelsea and theater districts
And everywhere else -
When the crisp air
And finely tuned sunlight
Like glue, held the blue
New York City sky in its place.

Until great builders whose ideas
Were scribbled over an industrious horizon
Over time,
Now flat-lined.

I cried when I saw all that space,
In that corner of downtown which
Emptied what we knew
Into what has always been unknown.

It was a day just like this one
When the broken stillness
Like sharp edges of disbelief –
Like the phases of a fractured moon -
When I lost you.

M C Biegner


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