Last Night

Hay flies out
from the truck before her,
bats hurrying a cave.
She swigs Debris of Twister,
turns mistakes
and crashes
into tall red pines.
Dry dandelions
breaking loose.
Paper wings
with winter green
needles flap an origami
peace crane
swift away
on her last exhale.

– poem by mary macgowan

– photo by lori, hippie peace freaks fb page

Everyday We Forget That We Are Still Afraid

Thing is, the victims of 9/11 didn’t “give” anything. The people in those airplanes? The people in the towers? Their lives were stolen, taken, abducted, ruined. Do I want to remember? I can’t NOT remember. The memory is seared into my brain. 

We watched the smoke for days from our little town in nearby NJ. I waited while loved ones walked home from Manhattan. Madison NJ mourned the loss of 7 citizens. That first week, one child hung around our house, tired of gathered relatives awaiting news about his father who was one of the 7. One of those days, I asked him if there was anything I could get for him. He asked for a glass of water.

Please, no statues. We remember in our hearts. It was a terrible terrifying time. The crashing of the towers, the Pentagon, tore open our American soul. The fear on those airplanes, fear we can only imagine, poured into that hole. We forget almost every day that we are still mending, still afraid.