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Large heart of a city

Ann McGovern

October 4, 2001

Maybe the faded, torn notes of missing, wanting, please look for.....

Maybe the burned-downed candles and withering flowers left in corners of buildings near B'way and Fulton...

Maybe the twisted, metal monster fingers, waiting to fall...

Maybe the broken glass windows glinting in the morning sunshine....

Maybe the small groups of women gathering for a quick solace of camaraderie...

Maybe the kid dressed up as a soldier -- no, IS a soldier saying, "I am humbled being here."

Maybe the busy passersby who wear their resolute faces strangely awry, who cannot NOT look at the machines' arms grasping in rubble...

Maybe the ash dusting the black shoes inside a closed shoe shop...

Maybe the discolored buildings the color of dun...

Maybe the stores proudly proclaiming -- we shall build again and the shuttered stores and the stores with Going Out of Business signs on their dusty front windows...

I gaze into the empty blue where once stood the tallest twin towers... (and) I think about the large heart of a city...

Maybe someday this hallowed ground will be just downtown streets again.

Maybe the signs on walls and lampposts will be of lost cats or dogs.

Maybe the strange silence of these broken streets will erupt again into cursing drivers, blaring horns.

Maybe one day the National Rent-A-Fences, the demolition trucks, the bands of police will be gone.

Maybe someday the wounds will be cleansed and healed...

Maybe now I can put to rest my one deep loss to mourn 3000 victims, 1500 orphans, millions of grieving survivors.

Three weeks ago today, buildings and bodies fell and the world changed.

I gaze up into empty blue where once stood the tallest twin towers.

And in the bare gaping spaces, I think about the large heart of a city.

And my small heart that broke with my love's death many years ago, both hearts that once beat with power and purpose.

© Ann McGovern

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