Beating

Folder: 
September 11

(For the collectively broken heart of a Nation)



Lately...it has been beating like a flail.

Pounding speedily and waxing between

extremes. It does not bode well, this

beating. If all things be perfect, it is a

most excellent and essential member of the

host. It's rhythm is assuring and

perpetual. And when it is in an elevated

state, it is strong and powerful. It's

movement and sound like the purposeful,

relentless strides of a thoroughbred. So

swift and sure is the rhythm, that it's

wellness is measured by it's own pitch and

metre. It's very essential nature has

spawned a myriad of colloquialisms which

implore us to "take it", "have it", or "get

it". Well, we have more than proven we are

worthy of it. And moreso when it is so

marvelously touched as a collective. Listen,

can you hear it? It is beginning to slow

its beat, this time...as one.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Another poem about 9/11. Of the three I've written, this was the last one I wrote on this subject.

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