Just an ordinary morning, blue skied with bright sun,
conversation at the breakfast table
about the usual things. “Homework done? Did you sleep well?
And on the way home, can you stop for milk?”
An easy kiss, cheerful goodbye, and the door closes.
Stop, dial back time, give back the day—
so much yet to do … so much left undone!
Years of living , years of growth
enriched by closeness, children, and at last
old age together. “Grow old along with me…”
but that door closes.
How will we go on, who saw blue sky turn black
with smoke and fire and unfathomable grief
who felt the ice-grip at the heart, felt breath tremble,
heard in deepest soul the cries that ears could not?
How will we forget, forgive, live on and not be scarred
by this door closing?
If hate could dial back time, then bring it on!
If anger doctored pain and stopped the ache…
but then more doors would close. Instead we stand
watching new glass and chrome rise skyward
praying that eyes now closed can see sheen
of our tears, as with great hope and newborn courage
we open yet another door to let in memories
that heal the heart—and break it.
9/11/01
Maureen Wartski 
Beautiful.
I remember how I held 6-week old Alex and sat on your back steps… and cried…
Eloquently stated.
Life is short but shorter for those who died that day. Remember to live each day to the fullest!
Dorothy
So true.
Maureen,
Very touching! I especially liked the use of doors and dialing back time. You’re a terrific poet!
LInda A.
Thank you, Linda…. it was deeply felt.
While you and others can articulate so eloquently what so many of us feel in some inchoate cloud, it helps to ponder your poetic glimpses into our deep sadness at this difficult time. If we could but recapture that time of togetherness — that possibility of oneness with the suffering world; perhaps some good would yet emerge. Fran
Our times of national togetherness seem so far apart… if only great joy could bring us to this point and not only great sorrow.