Nine Eleven, 2005: In Memoriam
Today
the hands of time wound
back the clocks to
morning,
mourning-mired, clocked at
forty-six past eight
exactly
when wanton wings wrought
terror's shocking stat:
two
thousand forty nine! All ground
to zero with the towers twin
turned
dust-cloaked debris choking
in a cloud of acrid smoke
and
all shed tears are gathered
now in limpid pool of
pained
reflection roiled by roses with
their thorns, in silence
piercing
hearts again, their old wounds
yet unhealed by salving
hands
of
time.
Copyright © Miguel Mendoza | Year Posted 2009
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