FLUTTERING



The winds of war blew downward,
that dusty desolate day.

And covered the cover that covers us all.

The downy, sooty powder,
fluttered descendant, heavy, and angry.

And ignominious.

Pluming earthward like a dying tree.
Or a triumphant ballerina in her final bow
upon this place, which has seen nothing but allodium.

This land and city had always pulled the world to her bosom.
But evil had come, to pry it away.

Evil who never had seen this bright vision,
And chose to encrypt her masses with suffering.

And despair, in the name of G-d.

Utter, black, incomparable sadness
has stunned a sobered people.



October 3, 2001