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Poem

It was supposed to be a shopping trip,
a time for a mother and daughter
to spend time together,
talking about the latest fads,
and the newest fashions,
and why her mother should
let her get a tattoo.

Time to share a decadent dessert
at a popular pastry shop in the heart of the city,
then light-heartedly complain to each other
about how it would go straight to their hips.

But now dust and debris cover the sun,
as people scream and children cry,
and subway cars are overturned,
and portions of tunnel disappear.

She was about to tell her mother
about the new boy in school,
and how he had smiled at her in the hallway,
and that his locker is right next to hers.

But her mother is no longer listening,
for she lies on her back
looking blankly into space,
a thin line of blood trickling from her lips.

And somewhere in another land,
people celebrate and rejoice,
thinking that God has
heard their prayers.

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