"There had to be a substratum, but its composition was unimaginable." ~American Pastoral
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Twelve
If I looked up
would I see you
descending
an angel with wings of dust
and a halo of morning sunlight
your brown curls fluttering in the wind
beckoning with your long finger
smiling gently
quietly
as you floated to the ground
softly as a cherry blossom
Or would you be
ascending
long hair streaming behind you
as you rushed heavenward
arms flung back
toes curled
glancing back only once
to wink
and grin
as you flew up
swiftly as a sparrow
Or are you simply
missing
a hole in the sky
swallowed by the dust and debris
by the thousands of other souls
merely lost
as the world collapsed around you
hair tangled
eyes wide with terror
as you disappeared
as completely as the end
When I look up
I see you
lingering
in the light
in the twin beams
that rise above the rubble
that illuminate the water
spilling from your name
into the hole in the ground
as dark as your hair
that fills
as you filled me
as richly as forever
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