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Open Poetry #50
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On The First Anniversary My Heart Finally Broke (a repost)
| Open Poetry #50 |
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On The First Anniversary My Heart Finally Broke (a repost) |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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Still, I hear the pipes sing Amazing Grace I hear them in my dreams I hear the screams every day, months of cadenced march out of an open pit mine of souls, all day long and through the night in and out of mind until my heart ran out of song. In today's Remembrance bells ring, performers sing and everybody's priests ask gods for treats. Each name a moment held in all solemnity on edge to slip into eternity; pomp and circumstance, a ceremony's tears and choking fears that this will mean an end to the beginning of the years we mark remembering the dead, living dead names all run together, labels on one giant blended bleeding soul. If one more plastic politician says, ‘Let's roll,' I think I will be sick. The dead can sleep, where is peace for heart and soul that could bring quiet to the living? For those who then were yet unborn, lessons of hopes and dreams torn from the living and the dead, should not be lost to time; rage still cries for reckoning and should not be forgotten as just untidy memories, of lives lost in the moment and, of those who raced to help only now to find death still hunts them from within its toxic cloud. We mourned a year. All that was allowed. We buried buttons and a watch, a rock, handfuls of dirt and ash, a shoe or two, some bone fragments, photographs in empty caskets, memories in sleepless nights full of empty arms and empty beds, tears in empty hearts. It's time to leave the past, but never to forget. For some, we became as Death in a time to stalk revenge cold and crafted with precision in deserts, fields and mountains, where we are hated for existing, where gods are left with questions, where evil breeds in men, where each victory brings two graves and self-serving politicians bend the world back into their greed. So, the need, the questions linger empty, there are no answers and so, the killings never end. There is no grief beyond the love of that which death can steal. There is no deal to make, no memorial to shake the monstrous memories, smell, taste, of human flesh and blood reduced to ashes mixed with fuel melted steel vaporized concrete, grit that clogged our eyes a blessing in disguise; shame of hoping winds would change, the dream's there every day, turn back and turn away run, no where to go, who died when there is nothing left to hold but memories' deadly clouds thick choking terror floating wild in poisoned air, horror grown so full that vision's lost, sounds of bodies hitting ground just beyond the reach of sight within the sounds, quick claws of fright, no where to hide. No where to hide. ©2003, 2005, 2006, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018 by icebox (written, September 11, 2002; edited as above) |
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| © Copyright 2018 icebox - All Rights Reserved | |||
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2islander2 Member Ascendant
since 2008-03-12
Posts 6825by the sea |
I have no words, your words are a blessing for those who suffered or suffer, the poem means a lot, thanks yann |
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Paul Wilson
since 2002-07-07
Posts 4711United States |
Icebox...Your words echo strong in my heart and mind. Very well said my friend. I believe I will post my poem from 9-11 after reading yours, for those who forgot a terrible wrong done to America...Paul ~~To share my poems with you is to share my heart with you~~ |
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LeeJ Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296 |
yes, it was as you explain, so vivid and alive yet still in the minds of those who experienced that awful day.... Well done my friend. |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
I've read this many times through the years and always end up reading through eyes swimming with tears. It never loses its power... and the memories never fade. |
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