Smoke

People have so many memories of that day

Of sadness and pain

Of national pride and anger

Of unity and fear

 

What I still see

In the depths of my mind

Is smoke

 

First it was in New York

On that horrific day

Black, billowing clouds blocking the sky

Making the daytime look like night

People running, screaming, asking why

The only answer a nonstop drone of sirens

 

Washington was next

The alabaster building unrecognizable in the midst of the ashy clouds

The fear was overwhelming

Why was this happening?

Is this the end?

Where will they be next?

 

Smoke rose in Pennsylvania that morning too

The wreckage of the plane a fiery mess

It was the only choice they had

To save the lives of others

Even at the expense of their own

 

For a while

There was a lack of smoke in the skies above my home

The white trails that always painted those skies were absent

The droning of the planes missing

Too afraid of another disaster

 

And afterwards

The smoke lingered over this great country

A blanket to hide the wounds and anger of our people

It took a long while for it to clear

Maybe it still hasn’t

Maybe it never will

But that smoke

Despite its foul odor

Has made us stronger than we could ever imagine

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world

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