Star for the Journey

9/11

  • Sifters of the Stone

    After the thunder,after the sky had finished falling,after steel had folded itselfinto shapes no architect intended, they came. Not with trumpets.Not beneath banners. With buckets.With gloved hands.With masks powdered graybefore the morning was old. They came to sift the stone. Piece by piece,handful by handful,they searched what fire had mingled—concrete with paper,glass with iron,office keys…

  • The Ones Who Turned Around

    When others fled, some turned the other way,And climbed where smoke had swallowed up the day.They could not know whose trembling hand they’d find,Or whose last frightened face they’d leave behind. They only knew, somewhere beyond the flame,A life was waiting, though they knew no name.And somewhere in that darkness, someone prayedThat footsteps might be…

  • Where Hope Kept Breathing

    We remember where we werewhen morning changed its meaning,when blue September skiesbecame the backdrop of our grief,and ordinary Tuesday planswere scattered with the dust. We remember towers falling,sirens cutting through the streets,names called into unanswered phones,photographs held in trembling hands,and families waiting for footstepsthat would never cross the threshold again. We remember those who climbedwhile…

  • Blue September

    At first, there was only darkness. Concrete pressed against concrete,dust thickened every breath,and somewhere beyond the weight of it allcame sounds too distant to name. He called out. Then again. Nothing. Until somewhere above hima thread of light appearedbetween broken steel and stone. And beyond it— blue. September blue. The same impossible bluethat had stretched…