Tears drip
silently from
sad, closed eyes
and broken hearts.

Alone but surrounded,
lonely but never alone.
That one strong pulse of sadness
starts here,
where the towers fell.

It resounds and echoes,
so strong it
shatters the dreams
of the world,
but it is contained in each and every
crumpled soul.

It remains at the Pentagon
and where the ones who were brave
crashed Flight 93.

Devastation took every happiness
all in the matter
of one morning.
I remember just nine days before
that September day.

My dad said,
"You should really
see the towers.
They might not
be here next time."

We blew him off,
my brother and I,
and I regret
what I did not do
that September day.

What was once safe,
now vulnerable.
What once stood tall,
is now dust.
No one thought
that they would fall,
those two strong towers
that we could see
on the skyline.

Is there nothing left to live for?
Dwell on memories
from before that September day.
What is there
left to live for,
now that the love has gone?