The following
poem is for the world,
in memory of September 11, 2001, and the hope of tomorrow...
It
is night
and the
small candle
lies nestled in the heart space,
soft illumination
held in the dark, dark earth...
It is night
across the world
where fear still haunts the passing day
and loss cannot be measured
in the tears or the echoes of soldiers'footsteps...
It is night
and the open wound
is comforted by the stillness
and the way the softness brings
seeing and hearing and sensing in new ways...
It is night
and the stirring of waking birds
foretell the coming
of the morning sun
and the birthing of a new day...
It is night
and the small candle
lies nestled in the heart space,
soft illumination
held in the dark, dark earth...
Lea
Goode-Harris ©
September 20, 2001