Where are the words?
My pen weeps and can find no form
To express its grief.
It’s covered with the dust
Of dissolving families
And trembles with birthing pains
And so, fails to speak.
My ink flows red
With the blood
Of fire fighters, police officers,
Rescue teams and everyday people.
The mother who will never again
Rock her baby to sleep,
The father who will never
Toss another ball to his son,
The daughter who was a princess
In her wedding gown,
And the son who made
His parents so proud,
All the children
Who brought joy to their families,
All the parents
Who had plans for their future,
All the grandparents
Whose love was so needed
The brothers and sisters,
The aunts, uncles and cousins,
Now are but faces in the dust
Memories whose touch is still warm.
Written after 9/11 when I found it so hard to write. In honor of those who died and those who love and miss them.