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Requiem After 9-11
Sometimes time stops
to honor those
who left time for a timeless rest
so suddenly, so undeserved,
so many.
Sometimes time stops
so that we, the living,
can look in the eyes of those lost souls
crawling in the growing dark
and use them as a mirror
to see our own face in the dark
and rediscover who we are.
Sometimes time stops
and all you can do
is to talk back into the dark
with your glowing silence.
Sitting in a Campus Coffeehouse Observing the Sidewalk
A crisp blue sky
with a fresh breeze
touching
the young legs walking the sidewalk
and their squishy slipper steps are telling me
of ease, of spontaneity
and of lightness, such as the hairs taking the breeze in
so that the skin can talk to the sky.
Young bodies!
So intensely alive!
Such as breasts stretching the tight tops!
Because of their curiosity,
they move ahead of the rest of the body
as if something vibrant wants to be set free,
uncontained
by the boundaries of their holders' young minds,
who are having a hard time holding them.
And I hear them talking
of hijackings, of crashes,
of thousands who died just last week.
The air I am breathing is gaining weight
and I start seeing the blue sky no more.
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