I wrote this last night, when I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking too much. I haven’t written poetry in a few years so it’s not that great, but it felt good to get my feelings out onto paper. I think I want to start writing poetry more often.
The hooks of memory
are freshly pierced into my mind.
A rush of fear and sadness
mingled with the smell of burning.
Smoke so thick it blot out the sun,
how can I forget such a darkness?
People so desperate to get out that they jump,
how can I not remember watching as they fell?
It’s impossible to.
Buildings once bright, tall and firm
reduced now to ghosts in the skyline,
a hole in the heart of my city.
How can I not recall that void,
felt in my own chest?
Life moves on.
10 years have gone by but still, the image—
seared onto the backs of my eyelids,
a brand of remembrance so vivid and real
that the nightmare once lived
is absorbed through each blink.