November Ninth

Long before the dawn,
in the darkest part of night,
the buildings downtown were burning.
We stood,
buckets in hand
watching the blazing inferno's churning
and we were helpless.
And far away,
you...
You lost your faith in the rotation of the earth.
You convinced yourself the morning would never come.
And so, with perpetual darkness looming over your weary head,
you left us.
You thought you'd never see the sun again.
You left us.
You thought you'd never hear the birds.
You left us.
You didn't even say goodbye.
But oh! My friend!
If you'd steadied your heart for just a few hours more;
if you'd looked a little harder for the lights on the horizon;
if you'd listened a little harder
for the groaning
and the turning
of the earth...

And so the sun rose cold.
And so we stood around the smoldering coals,
our empty useless buckets rolling in the chilly breeze.
We locked fingers
and turned, silhouetted, to greet the dawn.
And far away your mother sat weeping
and you were gone.