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REQUIEM AFTER 9-11 Sometimes time stops to honor those who left time for a timeless rest so suddenly, so undeserved, so many. Sometimes time stops so that we, the living, can look in the eye of those lost souls crawling in the growing dark and use them as a mirror to see our own face in the dark and rediscover who we are. Sometimes time stops and all you can do is to talk back into the dark with your glowing silence. SITTING IN A CAMPUS COFFEEHOUSE OBSERVING THE SIDEWALK A crisp blue sky with a fresh breeze touching the young legs walking on the sidewalk and their squishing slipper steps are telling me of ease, of spontaneity and of lightness, such as the hairs taking the breeze in so that the skin can talk to sky. Young bodies! They are so intensely alive such as breasts stretching the tight tops. They move ahead in front of the rest of the body because of their curiosity, as if something vibrant wants to be set free: they don’t want to be contained within the boundaries of their holders’ young minds, who are having hard time holding them. And I hear them talking of hijackings, of crashes, of thousands who died just last week. The air I am breathing is gaining weight as I see the dark seeds appearing in the blue sky. |
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