Perhaps it is as it should be, an endless line of humanity weaving through a roped entrance, complacently adhering to security checks, and then finally arriving in a place of deafening solitude From the pools where the towers, North and South, once stood tall, the windswept splay of water is welcomed, the cool mist washing away the silent tears hands reach for endless names carved for posterity, the soft prayers, to many gods, in many languages echo one voice broken in eternal sorrow.
This poem was written in response to my first visit to the Memorial two years ago. I wanted to express the universal sorrow I felt seeing the pools for the first time.