We gazed upward and saw horror on the wind.
They could've been us.
Surrealism ripped away our complacency
and threw us down to earth:
billowing explosions; clouds of smoke; dust and ash.
We gazed upward to what vanished on the wind.
They could've been us.
Shock diffused the nightmare of day,
lifting the veil of our separation:
bodies falling hand-in-hand; desperate acts of hope.
We gaze upward seeking a memory on the wind.
They could've been us.
A prayer rises with our love, a flag flutters with their breath.
Breathe in, breathe in their lives.
Their souls surround us. They are now us - on the wind.
© Vicky M. Semones, 2001