One September Morning

Suddenly Life wasn't trivial anymore People began to mean what they say In dark subways, on dirty street corners Strangers clasped hands Day and night, black or white The middle match of gray Made safe in the blaze of truth: The dollar dropping through the market Numbers just ash, confetti to the wind The smile at last come current with the sigh The hug of a stranger more tender than gold. Parents found their children in the rubble And children afraid, were reassured Death, always mysterious Took his time and place at the table The napkin folded neatly in his lap But we, with hands enjoined In prayer, this breath Give our need to one another The taste of bread and water enough To keep this dream Alive. ~ Laurence Overmire (First electronically published in This Hard Wind, by EWGPresents, Oct 2002; The Other Voices International Project, Apr 2006)