Ashes - from child to man - for 9/11

He crashed the saucepan lids with wild delight
Splashing the night with sound. We wondered
How did he get down there?
He fashioned toys from unwashed socks
And smashed the locks on doors then lashed
In anger. Life’s not fair.
But when the memory turns and burns
There’s ashes in the air.


With toy guns flashing fearful flame and fire
His rash desires forgiven, he wore
A sash made from a sheet,
Then fashioned ghosts, holes gashed for eyes,
Dashed in disguise behind and tumbled
Tangled guns and feet.
But when the memory turns and burns
There’s ashes in the air.

He slashed the sword of duty from its frame
Unabashed game of war turned real
How did he end up there?
Uncashed the untold hopes he knew
Brash dreams of youth bent down and bashed
And mashed into despair.
For when the memory turns and burns
There’s ashes in the air.

Comments

It all appears to begin innocently enough. Thanks for sharing this.

Malcolm
Sheila Deeth said…
Doesn't it always? And of course, the morning of 9/11 began with a world that seemed innocent enough.
Donna McDine said…
Sheila:

Wonderful poem. Thanks for sharing.

Regards,
Donna

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