Smoke in the sky and papers falling.
I remember the papers falling,
falling from the dying buildings.
Pages torn from precious books.

I remember the papers falling.
I thought of stories not finished.
Pages missing that can't be replaced.
Words that now would be lost.

So many pages torn from so many lives.
Lives that must now be rewritten
to find purpose and meaning
for the chapters that are gone.

I watched the papers falling
and seethed with anger and hate
And then I remembered..
hate is what gave us this.

Hate is much easier than love.
It doesn’t need as much work.
I remember the papers falling.
Falling like the tears of God.

James Dalton Byrd

Previously published in BANG
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