by Lisa O’Neil Guerci
how many angels fell from the clotted air that morning?
jumping
falling
flying
the flailing futility
the gravity of terror
when their bodies met the other side
when the unthinkable pierced an impossibly blue
cloudless sky
sidewalks stained
with scarlet sacrifice
those streets hold stories
and can never be swept clean.
that perfect day started out
with
a perfect avocado,
a perfect banana,
a smoothie
to soothe me
as I recovered from major surgery
complaining,
in pain,
but safe.
clocks chimed elsewhere in cities and suburbs:
get up!
time for work!
“good morning”; said the barista.
“what a beautiful day”
yes.
it was.
Idyllic.
everything in my small world became even smaller
a minor microcosm
when the phone rang-
clanging the contrast;
enormity unfolding
on a 27 inch screen
where mere moments before
was a turtle named Franklin,
for the four-year-old
My firefighter
sprang to stoic action.
reaction..
no time
(yet)
for emotion.
time bisected
with the thick black permanent marker
of
yesterday and today
pre and post
now
and then
us and them.
the beautiful day bruised beyond recognition
in a morning~
which started as a
mundane
routine day.
never the same.
’til morning exploded
different alarms rang
order to chaos in mere moments
of mortality
and screaming disbelief
down streets
avenues
alleys
demons laughed
in rolling black clouds-
the thick choking dust chasing us
with
political agendas,
hypocrisy,
hate.
blind loyalty to deception
jagged holes
ripped through buildings,
torn through hearts
twenty years later,
the same sky
remembers
lives ended
bodies
blown apart.
and have we learned
more
than new ways to burn?
yes,
fire destroys
but light somehow
always
prevails
even as defeated steel mountains
smoldered
for months
the future
fountains
in the footprints
of what stood so tall
continually
cry out their names
in tearful
waterfalls
© 2021 Lisa O’Neil Guerci All rights reserved.
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