(c)-Art-Whimsically Yours Studio-MFB III
The only sounds from it's depth are the clack of plastic buckets,
accompanied by the gasps of men uncovering the sticky residue of the dead.
Perhaps Cori's husband who in his last call said,
" Cori, I think a bomb just hit here, I'm having trouble breathing---
I don't think we're going to make it out of here. I just wanted you to know I love you."
Heavy machinery lifts a large section of debris, uncovering a
Gear that was only good to four hundred pounds of pressure per square inch.
Thus one large stain remains, marking the efforts of some heroic firefighters last stand.
The harbour winds whistle in the nooks and crannys, a haunting sound
The breeze's journey disturbs the paper thin remains and carries
the stench of yesterday, to the huddled masses yearning
I sat with a Fire Deptartment Chaplain Monday night, who had been in the rubble
of flesh canyon for five days, administering to the shocked and disillusioned
He came to a poetry reading after I had invited him to attend and he brought
A chunk of concrete smoke tinted and smelling of fire and fear.
I touched it and expected something more besides it's roughened texture,
but then I realized it was just remains. It is all just remains.
for here peace has fallen to pieces. I touched a remnant of that peace
broken and jagged, and later cried for what it took with it in it's tumbles.
History will remember the facts, reactions, politics, retaliation
and the resulting aftershocks but I will remember the people, the faces
and the voices, not yet disembodied on cell phones echoing through my memories.
From an elevator a lady cries, "We're all dying in here."
A man hollers, "Tell us how to survive till you reach us." and Cori's husband
Just past flesh canyon, the scent of the hot dog carts,
People pass by, stomaches churning but it's just meat,
Ketchup and pulp, footlongs and kosher, freshly boiled,
It's just meat and life goes on as they bring out the dead
in the vaporous lights that hold vigil over flesh canyon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Artis --(9-26-01
Silver trophy winner
Adding your comment:
touching. I remember where I was that day. I was in 8th grade. Fourth period art class.
