“…So when the last and dreadful hour
This crumbling pageant shall devour,
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall untune the sky”
~ John Dryden
There are ghosts wandering the streets of New York. Lost souls looking for their homes trapped in the wreckage and in the moment. Some never went towards the light, because they don’t know the truth. One woman is shouting to the firemen “I’m over here!” but the firemen look confused and cannot seem to hear her cries.They walk around in almost a daze, their purpose now unclear,and there is no sense of time, for the moment repeats & repeats and repeats & the words of “Help me” and the sounds of voices in prayer & machines drown out the last consciousness of thought.
There are ghosts wandering the streets of New York. Only a moment ago a policeman covered with dust was seen to be walking past a group of rescue workers only to disappear into the night, and shortly thereafter he was followed by the apparition of a crowd of office workers holding hands who were later identified as those missing in the destruction, their photos posted on billboards & placed in Union Square next to American flags, candles and flowers, always to be remembered and never to be forgotten. Yes, there are ghosts wandering the streets of New York, but we need to let them go, one by one, heart by heart and soul by soul so we can go on living, because that’s what they would have wanted. No more suffering, and no more grief or pain, but only the memory of all things cherished,and all things believed.
God…love…peace and faith….always.
R.M. Engelhardt 2001