Gray Cloud – A Tribute to September 11, 2001

This is a poem written by a friend and college roommate of mine, Jerry, on September 12, 2001.

Gray Cloud

There’s a gray cloud over my house
Like the smoke from a Nazi crematoria
It carries the hopes and dreams of
Thousands
Away on this clear day
Pieces of their work, their lives
Drift down to the street in front of my house
A burnt page
A singed business card

From the roof of my house
I saw what I thought were only wounds,
Wounds I thought that could be healed
I know now that the scars
Will be thick and painful
The rehabilitation
Long and grueling

In my backyard
There is a fine dusting of ash
The colors of the flowers are duller
But no amount of water
No amount of love
Can return them to their beauty of yesterday

I walk the streets of my neighborhood
To read the writing on the church walls
I see messages of hope, of thanks, of pleas for peace
And I cry
In public

By the local firehouse I stop.
Amazed
By their fearlessness,
And choked
By their loss

My wife says:
“Did you notice everyone is eating ice cream?”
And we both know
It’s not for joy
But to fill a void

There’s a gray cloud over my house
And there’s blue sky
Where the World Trade Center should be

And I still don’t know what to do.