The most vivid reflection was the idea
of being on top of the world
standing higher than the clouds
on one of two metal twins
far removed from religions which crumble
in the hands of ignorance
and countries where freedom of speech
is a mouth full of blood
high above the perversions and sins
that held me down
feeling closest to heaven,
baptized by the winds of Oyá
without much thought to the corporations below
which provided this peace

Days after towers crumble to the ground,
finally coming out of the rubble
and dusting off the depression
Standing by the West Side Highway piers
where, from the distance, they once illuminated
the darkness of my loneliness
many homeless and sleepless nights
out on the streets
with the hope that someday
I too could reach the sky
and feel the grace of God
Through the emptiness in the sky line of my soul
and the curly smoke
I imagine those who have suffered
at the hands of oppression and hate
rising like a flock of pigeons
flying high and together in unspoken agreement

An old woman watches from across the street
something sacred behind tearful eyes
perhaps the secret to true Beauty
wearing a shawl to keep herself warm
while pacing back and forth
with a fading photograph
& I realize to live as I have lived
is surely absurd

Peace may not exist
throughout the insanity of our world
but it can never be taken hostage
from the kingdom within me
Buildings, dreams and lives may have fallen
but the walls I built around myself
have also tumbled down
I still stand in a city left behind
with corporate orphans and empty beds
learning to love again
without fear and with hope for a new beginning