The Fracturing part 1
(For the Witnesses from Afar)
It started with the morning shows, the coffee and the toast, The routine hum of waking up from coast to distant coast. Then came the interruption, the banner on the screen, The anchor's voice that faltered, the confusion in the scene. We froze in vivid stillness, with the remote in our hand. As a silence flowed through cables to every corner of the land.
Do you remember where you stood when the signal pulled you in? The breakroom where the work stopped, the din that turned to pin-drop, The rolling cart in classrooms where the lesson couldn't win. We gathered round the glowing box, strangers' side by side, in appliance stores and airports, with nowhere left to hide. The miles that lay between us dissolved into the gray, We were a million separate living rooms, watching one distinct day.
And that was the Fracturing-not of glass or steel alone, But of the distance we had kept, the boundaries we had known. We watched the impossible happen, helpless in the glow, But in that helpless watching, a seed began to grow. We reached for phones to dial the ones we hadn't called in years, Connected by the cathode ray and united by our tears.
We saw the dust, we saw the smoke, but looking back we see, The way we held our children close and watched the history. We turned to those beside us, on the sofa or the train, And found a sudden brotherhood within the shock and pain. The screen showed us the horror, but the room showed us the love, Reflected in the teary eyes that looked to skies above.
So remember how we gathered, when the world felt small and tight, Huddled in the flicker of that eerie broadcast light. The signal fracturered normal life, it broke the day apart, But it fused a gentle tether between every beating heart. We were witnesses together, a family in the view, Bound by the screen, but healed by the hope that pulled us through.
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