Tag Archives: 9/11

At Scott Powell‘s Desk

The slow moving plane flying over our heads
Underscores the reason we are all assembled here
Sitting at Scott Powell’s desk
The Pentagon cop shuffles back and forth
The kids glide about gracefully – mostly quiet
Some of the kids aren’t very quiet
That’s the nature of kids.
The Pentagon cop is there to keep the peace
He needs more than that bottle of water to keep his cool
The gravel we walk on is all that is left of the building
The gravel that we walk on is all that is left of Scott Powell’s desk
The gravel that we walk on is all that is left

The gravel gets stuck in our shoes
The shoes of the serious adults
The shoes of the curious kids

The day is perfect here at Scott Powell’s desk
The sun is warm like real love
The breeze is crisp like October

The affect is hypnotic
The affect is transcending
The affect is bittersweet

The trees struggle to keep their color
They struggle for their lives
They struggle to survive for the 184 who lost their lives here

Scott Powell’s desk is weathered and worn like me
Worn like these kids far from the safety of home
Worn like the Pentagon cop and his jaunty shuffle
On this perfect autumn Day

10/10/2015
Pentagon memorial
Washington D.C.

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Humble Thanks

Midnight 9/12/01

The evening sky is that dangerous shade of mauve streaked with muted blue
Airplane lights flicker soundlessly in the distance passing over the city
Heaven just got a fresh batch of immigrants who will be looking for safe harbor
Somewhere the man who was late for work yesterday is holding his children tighter
Who is going to explain this to the children?  Who is going to make them understand?

The strongest of nations is suffocating – choking on its own fear for the first time
And the baseball season wasn’t quite over here – one symbol to push back in their faces
Heaven better start making up some rooms because they can’t keep the new folks waiting
In a classroom in an old school building a young woman struggles to keep her eyes dry
Who is going to explain this to the children? Who is going to teach them healing?

The night is wrapping the city in a shroud of darkness – a calming but eerie darkness
The prayers of the generations of tribes float skyward on the billows of black smoke
Heaven is a place where family will wait for you until your time finally comes
In a small house on your street a child falls to his tender knees and offers humble thanks
Who is going to explain this to him? Who is going to explain this to me?