Remember?

Do you remember?
Where you were
Who stood by your side?
When the news came
When you first saw the horror?

It is an image
That is seared
Into the backs of my eyes
Burned into my brain.

Images that will never fade
Shock that doesn't ease
The sight of men, women
Jumping to their death
Can you imagine
A situation
When that is the best option?

This is a piece I wrote after 9/11.  I try to post it each year as I remember those lives lost, those brave souls, living and dead who sought to save others.

Forgotten Road.

Rain doves coo softly as they march up and down
The old clay road that leads back the holler
Their path is sometimes altered as they weave
In and out of the hateful tufts of grass that grows
Unhindered now in the middle of the road.
Their heads bob up and down again
As they harvest seeds from the grass
Cars no longer travel the road often.
Seldom, really. The road is un-needed
Un-heeded, unkempt and overgrown.
Occasionally traveled by family come
To lay flowers on moss covered stones
And monuments to pioneer mountain men
Dutiful mountain mamas, near forgotten
Weeds grown over them,
Like the old dusty road.

Dank Dawn

It is a dank and misty dawn
A morning that stirs up
Stories of ghosts and spooks
And headless horsemen.
A drippy, wet morning
Full of damp dog smells
And distant hints of wood smoke.
Coughs and fits sound thin
From an ancient rooster
Somewhere up a holler.
Along the dirt roads
Standin' under the umbrella
Of protective trees
Or in a tin roofed shelter,
Teenagers grin in the dark
As they haunt little fellers
With stories of haints
Monsters and bumpitty sounds
In the dark.