Scarred Parachutes

(Remembering New York 911)

Wings of Satan
Steered by a broken
Ethic compass
Crippled the twin
Of saturated financialism and capitalism;
Gravitised to
Ground Zero.
Snowed:
Pieces of murder
Everywhere,
Transforming the floor
Into a bowl of
Ash porridge.
And turtledoves flutter past.

Slow peace.

Our epoch of over-issued liberties:
Freedom to speak
Freedom to print
Freedom to pray.
Not forgetting-
Freedom to terrorize.

Fast pain.

Grab on.
I thought I saw an angel’s hand.
Excuse me, you an angel?
Mortality stares back at me.
I held on to his.
He held on to God’s.

Hold on.
I distinctly felt
The furnace of warmth from the voice.
Excuse me, you compassion?
Speak up:
You are fading away,
I really can’t hear you any more.

But I can.

Hear the global minutes of silence:
These roars of retaliation
Drown the tragi-noises
Into whimpers of condolences.

Safe and sound.
The essence of lying encapsulates the principle of
pain.
I will be away for an extended holiday.
Only he didn’t elaborate
That he’s going away to another kingdom
Even the clouds can’t reach.
These rains I cried,
I cried enough for all the people in the world.
Mother Nature proclaimed.
So rinse your eyes no more,
Yours treks of tears
Are scarring your face.

Never mind the pain.
There’s beauty in release.
But:
I felt I could have told you.
I felt I could have known you.
I felt I could have loved you.

The prophecy of poena damni.

Dust settles.
The Red Sea of terror
Split into two
By the staff of Humanity.
The ballerina in the disco box
Still waltzing round her platform.
The music plays on.

Civilization dances on.

© 27th September 2001
Low Guojian Ethan.