Before that bright September morning,
When something fell from the sky
It was rain or snow or hail.
In dark of night, when spark of light
Caught within corner of the eye—
Likely a lucky shooting star,
An occasion for a special wish.
Never did it occur that planes
Would crash into buildings…
That looking up from Manhattan streets,
Bodies would plummet a hundred stories,
Fall into dust of shattered dreams….
Never could imagined sky
Rain a million memos,
Shoes and torn shirts drop without owners—
One young woman, her sister I knew.
Screams from that day
Have lasting echo in my ears.
At times, I lift my head,
Heart open to horizon of distant hills,
Black clouds of sorrow gather, seeking—
Searching after eleven years, for peace and healing.
Please, oh God, give us new skies
In which no one fears falling objects.
Drench us not in clouds of ash, but rain,
Washing us gently with mercy and grace.
Give all upon this Earth a just and holy place.