Poetry Magazine

Kenneth W. Gray

USA

Ashes Like Snowflakes

Dashing Dan’s doing our daily commute,
Sun rising to our rear we continued enroute,
Changing downtown to a short bus ride, and
Then upward for a routine workday in the sky.

Phones ringing and emails streaming, as
Trading was brisk with expected risks.
Through eastern windows the sunrise so beautiful,
But the work pace precluded pleasures sensual.

With a loud crash above, the building shuddered,
As our tower swayed violently from north to other.
Lights went out and smoke soon entered as
The ceiling fell and walls splintered.

To the stairs go quickly and orderly descend,
Run for your lives and grasp someone’s hand.
Fire has entered our floor’s far end.
Get the hell out! I heard one command.

Down the dark stairwell we all scrambled,
An invalid woman on the next landing floundered.
Picking her up, I carried her downward
Gasping for air as dense smoke was encountered.

Lobby floor reached and doors opened wide
Still carrying the woman, I hurried outside.
Get out of here I heard someone yelling,
Debris and bodies around us falling.

Firemen and police were running,
The opposite direction than we were going.
Damage to assess and lives to save,
Or their unique fate for a premature grave?

Covered in dust, one block later I stopped,
Gently setting the woman down on the sidewalk.
Dust billowed past us as all went dark …
Human ashes like snowflakes rained in the park.

September 11, 2001: World Trade Center

Chattel Remembrance

Abandoned at birth,
Four years unloved,
Now standing alone in a room,
Through a curtained window observed.

Red dress neatly pressed,
Patent black shoes shining best,
Golden curls hiding,
Blue eyes yearning.

Looking toward the door then floor,
Silently screaming of need for more.
Is there a world beyond foster care?
Love is waiting if only dared.

Please come in!
Let this not be the end.
Our loves could begin and
Inappropriate touching… never again.

Foster Mom enters alone.
Another hope for now gone.
Time of return to my room and
Wait for another chance to stand alone.

Foster Child Waiting

Crawdads, Minnows, and Tadpoles

Sent home early from a sweltering southern schoolroom
Walking home barefoot kicking cans and rocks at noon
The yearly school schedule now finally finished
Sandlot baseball, June bugs, and fishing worms to replenish

From the intense summer sun all street asphalt now molten
Walking the grassy, graveled roadside and pain less often
Jumping to coolness from tall grass to tree shadows
Looking behind as shoe wearing classmates follow

Flowing brook encountered—burning foot pain to end
A planned dam for the creek – summer project but then
With enough rocks, dirt, and fallen solid limbs
A pool deep enough for my buddies and me to swim

Shoes over shoulders with laces tied together
Onto the bank thrown before the cooling water entered
Report card in rear pocket and jeans rolled above knees
Before wading the soothing stream -- the searing pain to ease

Sharp stones scarce in a sedate sustained stream
But caution still required for things unseen
Slowly wading and looking – new things to uncover
Studying with delight each new life form discovered

Absent rational reasons to hasten home hurriedly
Without one waiting to welcome my arrival wantonly
Paltry moments of personal pleasure pursued
In this slowly meandering creek with childhood visions imbued

One by one, larger rocks methodically turned asunder
As girl classmates across the wooden bridge saunter
Delight and future pleasures this first summer day foretold
Stealthfully searching for crawdads, minnows, and tadpoles.

From the Womb Rendered

Twenty-nine weeks physically tethered
Not yet ready the world to encounter
To the emergency hospital room rushed
Two doubtful lives put into God’s trust

Expectant mother really frightened
Body swollen and blood pressure heightened
Still alive but not doing well
An outcome only He can foretell

Grandparents arrive in support of care
Out-of-town aunts not yet here
Encircling our bed with hands together
Pastor leads prayers in anguished fervor

Believing to be so near my end
Hospital attendants enter and action begins
Into another room our bed is pushed
As family stands silent … their prayers hushed.

Death or life with hopeful wellness
Either outcome availed by the Lord’s kindness
In quest of saving lives and relief of suffering
The surgeon completes the undertaking

It’s a boy the father announced
All two pounds plus an ounce
Mom is fine and resting well
Baby is stable but no way yet to tell

Tubes, probes, tests, lights, and monitors
A three-month struggle for a life normal
Severely underweight and transparent of tissue
Family prays daily as attention continues

Mother slowly recovers from her trauma
Son struggles for life isolated under
A plastic bubble world so artificially isolated
Fighting months for life so pitifully emaciated

Time passes slowly in intensive care
Nurses and doctors always there
No heart-felt thanks will ever suffice
For their preparation, love, and personal sacrifice

Time to depart this arduous hospital strife
To be held and loved dearly by parents for life
Eyes wide open and cognition so precious
From the womb rendered prematurely but now fully developed.

Grandson number four….