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-one 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

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Suzanne Pisano

Writer. Singer. Jersey girl. Personal essays and poetry. Humor when the mood strikes. Editor for The Memoirist and The Age of Empathy.