september 11

worlds collide
like planes and
window panes
shattered on the
streets of ny
bombs like hate
mail metal the hell
of now in afghanistan
jihad against the monster
but a feather plucked
from the rubble phoenix
eight years rising
the red of fire and
blood is a rose
malti born unto this day
she draws dreams
and hums hymns
she is a doran of delight
a goddess of the moonlight
and divine alchemy sway
by the vaulted
room of the world
with head so high
and body slim
she was
and is
and always will
let’s play

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply