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by Rhyssa Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2072069
a tribute
one morning in New York City,
while people crowded by the thousand,
hurrying, waiting,
swearing as the shriek of metal on metal
warned them that the day
was beginning, and the Twin Towers
were going to gain another layer,
someone looked up
and saw a tightrope walker.

this was when the world was younger,
and the thought of the towers
was still untempered by death,
but forged in possibility.

those below thought
he would jump,
and backed away,
but instead, he danced,
eight times back and forth
between the towers—
lying down, kneeling,
waving to the crowd so far below,
their eyes locked
on each magnetic pass
across the wire.

Philippe Petit
planned for six years
to sneak his way
above the New York streets
a hundred ten stories up,
and when he did,
they asked him why.

I see two towers, I have to walk,
he said and the artist within
nods, and turns to look around the world
to see what catches the eye—

and what wonder can be made of it.

line count: 36

Author's Note
Prompt for: Jan 16, 2016
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