Whenever I see a clear, cloudless, bright blue sky
there is a swipe of grief.
Vault of heaven, you shimmer off glass walls.
No twin skyscrapers, no twin jets, could ever pierce you,
but can tears reach?
I gaze the sky, so that all mine may run dry.
Yet, my eyes again turn wet.
Bright blue, I would resent you, if not for all the hope
in what may be above.
Meantime, in the rubble here, love may be all that is left.
Thankfully, no one can take from us what is our best.
And so, let birds, let them fly.
And help us all to forgive, even as we can never forget.