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,
Disbelief,
Disarray.

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

Names
So many names.

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

Silence
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.