Sunday, September 12, 2010

Altered States

While talking about the events of September 11, 2001 with our kids yesterday I remembered this poem.  Pain and tragedy has a way of bringing out the poet in me.  I remember my father calling me up (a rare thing then) to check on me, interesting how, no matter how old your children are, you NEED to make sure they are safe.  I am missing my Dad today and thinking of that awful day and always praying for Peace!


Altered States by Donna Dionne Hurlbut 11/2001

How deeply America's tragedy
affects us all,
me
we
indelibly.


Oddly strangers are
less so to me,
open more
am I
than before.


Gone now is strangers plea.
friends to be
you and I,
welcoming a wider
we.


At the Mall I spied a guy
wearing huge, baggy, dragging pants,
making him limp with every step.
At the time it struck me funny,
seeing this man handicapped by his jeans.


Baggy pants,
dragging jeans,
funny poem in my future,
baggy pants,
dragging jeans,
funny poem in my future. 


I remembered the pants
baggy, dragging,
but lost the "funny".


Can't ignore this
wandering,
pondering,
mental metamorphosis.


What if
he had to race down
59 flights
in those pants?


What if he needed
to flee
falling debris
in those pants?


What if
he could not carry
his brother
in those pants?


Because of those "funny" jeans!


See how much is altered,
indelibly,
we,
me!?

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