when morning pulsed bright blue,
Towers toppled, planes plunged
and so did countless tears.
When death blows reigned from sky,
ash fell like feathers, settled
into heaps of banks and drifts.
You, who were summoned, rose.
You rose, clad in hero colors.
You wore the police officer’s silver badge,
firefighter’s sun-striped bunk out gear,
and the EMT’s Blue Star of Life.
You walked with strong arms around
the splintered, washed debris from
mouths and eyes, when all the while
your burned-out eyes could not fathom.
Your hands grasped the frail and frightened.
With unruffled grace you led, then
back to black billowed hallways,
where Death seized your last breath.
Everything fell that sunny day,
Buildings tumbled, heartbeats silenced,
stilled by the plots of burial demons.
But you rose, unconquered by evil bones…
Through God-sifted stars, you rose.
©Sharon Frye all rights reserved