Lost Septembers.

Do they hear me?
The souls of lost September
Esconced in their earth eternal.

Do my tears wash their hearts?
As memory inveigles the mind,
Recollections of despair,

A year on I came
To stand,
To touch,
And to cry
Smoke and dust filling senses

So many names.

I knew them not,
And yet, they are my brothers
My sisters
My life.

Reverent whispers in solitude
And my heart, here to lay, evermore.

I will return
For you are me
I am you
And September be our dawn.


I wrote this after visiting New York City, in November of 2002.

We were there Thanksgiving weekend, and I stood by the fence at ground zero,
with tears streaming down my face,
as my senses were invaded buy odours of smoke and dust.

I did return, in both 2003 and 2004.