What is left for us to say to you,
names etched on glass?
names etched on our crudely living hearts?
We are tirelessly living between your twin lights,
insisting on your memory,
insisting on our modal chant
“Remember,
Never forget.”
You speak in names,
“We are the dead,”
repeating name by name,
your dread, calm memoriam.
Again, and again,
a rhythm for America,
a drumming rhythm to our silence,
the meter of our renewable grief,
beneath these beacons and your shining pools.
In Memoriam
9/11
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