The fall.

Falling Through Air
by Margery Snyder

Events are irrevocable
Some thoughts, once thought
Cannot be undone, once
Encoded in synaptic pathways
Come to the same end
However often re-enacted.

Gravity and time move
In one direction
As those people fell but once
Through awe and smoke
But are ever dead
No matter how often
The moment of their fall
Plays through my nerves...

So I fall through air
Between these scented trees
My feet dangling to gravity
As did theirs, but once,
This time, however often
I run down this hill.

Even the littlest moments
Are irrevocable, words said,
Once said, cannot be recalled.
They clasped hands and chose
Fire or falling. They chose
To fall together, tiny specks
Through air that fed the fire
Preceding the towers' greater crash.

So I, too, fall through air
This moment and the next
I love this life and let it pass
I'm still and always falling
I say to you,
Ever irrevocably
I love you
Leap with me.

I was revisiting what I've learnt about 9/11 in school and came accross this poem. This picture fills me with a great sadness whenever I see it.
I've been neglecting this blog, but it can't be helped I guess, life will always get in the way.
Hope to post more soon.

(I'm sorry if this upsets anyone with links to the September 11 attack, it was never my intention)

Drown.

And they closed the beaches

When that little boy drowned.

And they searched and they searched

But he couldn’t be found.

He left behind a father, a sister and mother

But the saddest of all, he left a twin brother.

They were almost alike in every way

He cried when he didn’t come back and play.

They stopped his crying with just a ‘shush’

He knew (they could tell) when the beach fell a hush.

They carried him up, and onto the sand

That boy that will never become a man.

The father cried, the mother screamed

Things were as bad as they had seemed.

Silence quickly fell among the crowd

His voice; it wasn’t very loud

‘Wake up,’ he said. ‘Wake up Tim,

There’s places that we haven’t been

I’ll grow up, and you will to

There’s many things we planned to do.’

All was quiet, all but one sound

His mother falling to the ground.

Because a piece of her heart broke

With every word her young son spoke.

They took him, placed him in a bag

The father sobbed, his shoulders sagged.

‘Mum, they’re taking him away!’

Stop. Their father tried to say

But all that came out was a silent cry

As they lifted his son’s body high.

 



I was reminded of something - an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words...But they made no sound, and what I had almost remembered was incommunicable forever.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald.

You told me I had small feet.
They're almost half the size of mine, You said.
My hands are small too, I said.
You laughed.

That night.

To them that night meant nothing

to her, everything.

it was a night of crumpled paper

unheard sobs and unseen tears

left alone she cried

while the rest of the world slept.

She cried as she lay with the book in her arms

and she left the song on repeat

but even as the fan spun

the silence was deafening.