It still makes me sad to remember 9/11:
Morning of Good-Bye
We bathed in the tears gushing down our faces.
The ones that raged like a storm and rose to the same intensity
of vile villainy—that smoked and shattered
with terror and swept our sons and daughters
home early. Early
is usually good like waiting in the
dark for the first smoldering
wick of light called hope.
of the early days,
ran off our lips
like maple syrup flows in fall.
Only a few sweet drops fell into the freshly-dug
charred soil of grand canyon.
We huddled at the gravesides—family and friends who came early
to show our love and shave the bitter in half. I am sorry, please forgive me,
but with the seed unplanted
in the very early fall
and the cavernous ground growing cold,
early came late
on that heinous September
morning of good-bye.