The Shattered Postcard
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In remembrance of 9/11/2001
A skyline, once two-headed,
a postcard promise.
I saved it,
that future view,
my feet on the ground,
neck craned back,
in the shadow of steel giants.
They took the dream first.
Not just the view,
not just the towers,
but the postcard, torn.
The future became a past I never lived.
I saw them fall,
and a part of me fell with them.
My anger, a hot fire,
against the smoke,
the dust that buried my dream.
The broke the glass of the window I was looking through,
shattered the symbol,
Left an empty space.
But the broken glass became a mirror.
And in it, I saw us,
not broken, but reflecting.
A million faces,
not shattered, but hardened.
Holding each other up,
in the place where the towers used to be.
The dream changed,
it became something new.
A different kind of strength,
forged in the space where the twin towers stood,
built not of steel, but of spirit.
We were not broken,
we were made stronger.
Copyright © Jami Patterson | Year Posted 2025
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