September Mysterion, A Poem

(In Remembrance of 9/11 Victims)   

        The day began like any other day in lower Manhattan,

street coffee vendors filling up paper cups on the go.

 On the Staten Island ferry, an old man teeters up and down

 cradling an old shoeshine box shouting,“Shine your shoes!”

 In the ferry gliding across the New York Harbor, some hunch

 over a newspaper, some catch a snooze like sitting Buddhas.

 It was that innocent morning on the eleventh of September  

 when the sky split open with flames bursting from the tower 

 hit by the plane. Bodies fall like dolls thrown out of windows,

 molten steel-beams tumbling into mountains and mountains

 of cascading mushroom dust, people running down the streets

 swallowed by the black smoke when building no.7 tumbles

 down in self-immolation. 

In that chaos no one witnessed the angels flying down to scoop

 up thousands of mangled spirits and carry them heavenward—

 Nor did anyone see the Statue of Liberty lower the burning torch

 into her arms, weeping and weeping —

 When the towers are gone emptying the skyline, the burning sun

 plunges down, bleeding into the sea of mysterion.

Written by ? Therese Young Kim