O dove, pure white, iconic
Herald of peace, stand-in for the holy ghost,
Bird of love who soars
Over disaster's threshold,
O living emoji, tattooed on the arm
Of Hell's Angel turned peace-maker,
Creature always most welcome
In our darkest hours . . .
Having just walked past Ground Zero
Where fragments of the facade of the two towers
Were leaning
Like the punched out frames of stained glass windows,
Past a two blocks-long chain link fence adorned
With photos of the dead, flowers, poems and charms . . .
And just when I couldn't take in any more
There was a little park
Overshadowed by derelict buildings
Draped in black as if in mourning,
The ash of the disintegrated monoliths
And 3000 incinerated souls
Still covering window ledges
And awnings like moondust . . .
And yet there were no tears in me
No water, like a holy spring gone dry . . .
And then, a miracle -
You landed on a branch just above me,
And then I cried,
Boy did I cry!
Did the vacuum of my vacuous spirit draw you to me?
Is that how this works?
I thought that you would fly
When I stood up but you didn't . . .
I had to get back to where I left my father
Waiting in a post Apocalyptic cafe sipping bitter coffee
Underneath a hanging lightbulb
Powered by a communal generator
That was turning gas into electricity
Sending it out through orange cords
Like mother's milk . . .
(Article changed on May 08, 2025 at 6:19 PM EDT)
