nine-eleven 10 years on

 

When demigods play at war,

mortals die many deaths.

An incoming tide of emotion

flows heavy through unfilled hearts;

would that it scours the debris

as an ebbing tide ransoms a shoreline

or poppies claim a battleground.

The heart-wounded cannot seek justice

when, unmasked, justice is revenge.

Revenge separates the soul -

leaves crying as its sole reward

a graven graveyard of salty regret.

Tomorrow beckons with promise

new day, new pathways -

dawning light's release

or the tightening grip of darkness,

the strangling suicide of the soul.