9-11 Initial Response- Erica Beth Redner

Between lines

the newspapers of yesterday

topple on my head.

My world origamies in two.

Grayed silence,

churning papers.

Denial.

A fine tooth, combs.

Feet of wreckage.

The towering of iron proportions

Imploding

beneath cemented feet.

My mind trips

over history:

Conscientious Objector,

The Draft.

Paper cards ignite in the air,

fired by a 1960’s cigarette lighter.

Solders cover the Capital,

Pacifists, jailed.

I wade through debris,

like my City.

Fear.

Crying among friends,

we talk.

CNN flashes:

Flag twitched at half-mast.

Rescue crews line Downtown’s streets

with their dogs:

sifting through charred remains,

an ID tag, a wedding band, but no body.

Desperation.

We do not know. We have never seen war.

Our MTV-reality burns, like out parents’ draft cards.

Confusion.

College classrooms pack with shocked students.

Silence.

Chapel bells shriek,

shredding a clear autumn mourning,

Leaving emotional debris to scatter between each toll.