A Rare Saturday Post

This is something I wrote a couple of years ago. Take a moment to remember those we lost.

September Morning

There were shoes everywhere
High-heels, clunky sandals, oxfords
Scattered among the briefcases, purses, gym bags
Anything that slowed us down

We ran in stocking feet
Through glass and metal, mud and ash
Not feeling the cuts
Not noticing the blood

How could we?

When all around was fire and smoke
Paper like rain, bodies like hail
The screams, the anguish, the chaos
What was our pain compared to that?

Only later, alone at home, safe
Could we look at our feet and guiltily wonder
How could something that tears open your soul
Leave such little marks?