This was written shortly after the first twin tower bombing reflecting a true event. |
*I wrote this shortly after the FIRST Twin Tower bombing (NOT 9-11) and reflects an actual experience. I found it today, and I'm posting it because I find it refreshing that things do change, but I also find it disturbing to realize what brought about the change. I have yet to write about 9-11. Emotions cut far too deeply still for me to write about it. I need to, and I will... *** Photographic Negative Winter's numbing cold, indifferent to cast off dreams and day old news, freeze into a stop-frame photo. Rank measured by Sts. & Aves., the tombed towers march in endless monotony. Ice-encrusted curbs blend to grey as granite stoops, cracked and grumbling, lie under greasy windows: shuttered eyes blocking out/in the colorless profanity of existence. Anonymous identities hide behind molded masks until such tragedy erupts to blast the shields aside; threatening to topple the city towers like so many dominoes. In the stark relief of a photographic negative, the people return and the personalities come out for a time. Then, scared, they retreat into their tunnels and burrows, safe in the darkness; hidden, hiding. A windblown page of a city newspaper lands, flattened on the hood of a newly stolen/stripped car: Twin Towers Bombing, story on page five. |