The Crash was Missing

It was years ago.

The sky was broke by a loud engine

Exploded by a jet wheeling into a building

Sending thousands to an innocent death

Sending rescuers to their own demise


The pitch changed as the jet nearly missed the building

The engines slowed to make the necessary turn

And it was successful.

The angled cut in the side of the building told us so

The exploding fuel out the other side told the same tale


The bodies were not to be found

They were decimated and cremated

They were crushed and bludgeoned

And fell like a sickly rain

No hope came from the sick cause that was claimed


As I ponder the event, many years after

I cringe at the death, I feel sadness in my heart

I hope that I will never feel such shock again

Thinking that it will never be used as an excuse;

To kill to stop injustice


And I suddenly cower

My ears hear the sound of that descending jet

It’s engines wailing into my thoughts

I listen to the nearby highway

As truck tires howl,


As it slows to a gradual stop.


About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a need for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and mine when you read those from me.
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