9–11 Poetry

Irony

Photo by the author.

It was going to be the most beautiful day
An azure blue sky
Cloudless and clear
Then
Jarring impact
Raining concrete, steel and ash
Human beings lashing the pavement
The sky was falling

A brilliant blue sky
Perfect, dazzling
Gone up in flames
Charred beyond recognition
The sky was burning

A flawless blue sky
Pure innocence
Stained black with evil
Choked black with smoke and jet fuel
The sky was killing

It has been seared into our memory;
Branded, so that even
Twenty years on
The sight of a vibrant blue sky
Can bring it all back
The sickening, high-pitched whistling
The volcanic explosions
The murder of innocents
Our world on fire
Billowing smoke and ash blanketing everything
And everyone

It was going to be the most beautiful fucking day