By: Fidele A. Lumeya
Look it is coming
Smoke, Smoke
It’s overflowing
Overwhelming
Thinking about
Who set the fire.
Earth wake up and explain to us.
Honey it is nine eleven
A dark day
Day of national tragedy
No melody
From inside the flights
Crossing blue skies
A sunny day
Carrying victims
And smiling suicides
What a grace
Disgrace.
Honey
This was a day of metanoia
The day of transformation
At the age of information
Revolution
Innovation
For the Nation
That day started as an ordinary day
Suddenly will become
An extraordinary ones
Not at the blink of an eye
In a slow motion
The whole nation
Will face a national humiliation
Abomination
Reconciliation
The nation will rediscover its vulnerability
Spirituality
Mutuality
The ritualistic smoke
Will announce to those far away The beginning of the ceremony of
The national redemption.
No more immunity will be given
No more humility to be shown
No more humanity to shine
But cruelty
Intense
Reality.
For Vengeance
To be heard
To the expense of the whole
From a short man
Standing alongside a toll
Using the megaphone
Phony
Folly
Look!
Above his head
The dark smoke keeps coming
From the top of the roof
Carrying voices of
the flying,
crying,
screaming and
dying
The death they didn’t choose.
Willing to skip
But trapped inside
Their cages.
Smoke, smoke, smoke
Smoke everywhere.
From the ashes of the already dead
From the Twin towers in New York