I spent the afternoon in a crowded room
and watched as the towers fell from heaven.
Something shifted in space and time,
though none of us could say what:
We were fifteen, sixteen, seventeen,
with very little knowledge of what would make
a man offer himself on a fiery altar
for his faith in the god of vengeance.
And now every autumn we rewind the tape
to watch over and over again
the formation of the wound
which only the God who sought justice by
His own death
will ever fully heal.