September 11 Poem: The Dream that Never Woke
That rented garment
And torn out hair cannot
That wailing sounds
And sunken hearts cannot
Whose to pray that has never prayed
The godless screamed "My God!"
The faithful left to wonder why
The Lord's fist fell
They wonder why they hadn't recovered the promised protections
Within it
Those left without
Carve the name of their lost into tree trunks and stone walls
So that memories last and are touchable
They erect tall monuments and light them like torches
Like strange beacons that they imagine could speak to Heaven
So that lost means found
So that the loved weren't simply ripped away
And made to disappear
The heart crumbles
At the sights and sounds
Flowing tears
Stretched out faces
Twisted torsos and bent knees
Elevated hands
Worn and heart-rending voices lost to the other innumerable voices
That still pray that the nightmare was only a dream
Wishing that the dream never took to waking
Published by H. Kris Thomas
So Cal resident writing poetry and other things...but mostly poetry. View profile
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23 Comments
Post a CommentLots of talent in your work. So many powerful moments.
This is a beautifully written poem. I enjoyed the symbolism at the end.
thanks for sharing your beautiful and profound work with us, can't wait for more!
Very powerful.
Good writing on a sad subject!
(☯‿☯)
Wonderfully written. That was a horrific day, and it still makes me wonder why and how and what for. I still find it so hard to believe what evil monsters there are in this world.
Beautiful poem!
What a beautiful poem!!!!
Damn excellent poem, powerful, but graceful, this is why I love poetry and the poets who write the verses that light the world.