The Dust

The overwhelming quantity of dust created that day. The overwhelming realization that within the dust were microscopic particles of fellow human beings. This was 9/11 for me.

I was hundreds of miles away from NYC, but in my memory, I can feel, hear, smell, and taste the dust even though I was only seeing the photos. The poem I'm including was written on the fifteenth anniversary. The dust remains, but today it may also appear on the doorsteps of people around the world.

Try not to think about it, but know you can't.

The Dust

The reaction from the fusion of

pure evil and gravity was a force

unknowable and unstoppable.

Fifteen years on, the resultant

dust, composed of microscopic

particles of the lost--lives, loves,

futures, as well as lost faith, lost

hope, lost trust, lost kindness,

continues to settle over everyone.

Try to sweep it away--it embeds

more deeply, penetrating and

permanently altering our souls.

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