</></></></>A unique line against the skies. <br />Terror reign midst desperate cries. <br />The plea for help, but none to save. <br />Thousands embrace an eerie grave. <br /> <br />One-hundred-fifteen stories high, <br />Fires rage, and people die. <br />Heavy smoke billows up, <br />As many drink of a bitter cup. <br /> <br />Survivors weeping in the street <br />The silent tone of human bleat: <br />Sight and sounds of painful sigh, <br />With certain fear in the eye. <br /> <br />Searching for a loved one lost, <br />Bound to find at any cost. <br />Vainly roaming to and fro, <br />They sit and wonder where to go. <br /> <br />Quiet tears hug the cheek <br />As unexpected havoc wreaks. <br />The clock of time’s fateful stroke— <br />An autumn’s “winter” in New York.<br /><br />Walterrean Salley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-elegy-of-september-11/
