It is September 11
we are waiting on word from the White House
America waits as boots are polished
soldiers stand in salutation suited
so when the word is spoken,
there is no need to call for attention.

The students study in bliss
of yet being impacted by the shadows-
the cloth that covered the ground was thick
the death toll rose so quick
displaced children and debris
-it's not in their backyard so how much can they truly see?

The days are filling with images
videos being repeatedly rewound and replayed
the spirits breaking the last breathes leaving
so many souls were released
and so many are ignoring the news
afraid their brother, dad, or aunt may be on that first platoon.

A dozen years before
we were in a frenzy that felt something like this
but it was in our backyard.
We keep walking today, phones buzz with average chirps
but we are still waiting.
Silently, it seems we wait for the word to lead our weary flock.

Oh prairies of paradise,

why do you dwindle in our grasp?

Do you not want to share in our expansion

of democratic duty?

What would you consider the proper path,

my plants scathed in acidic dew.

Do you feel the life leave the soil?

When your roots are outstretched for a water bed no longer located under you,

will you weep your petals knowing what is to come?

I weep for you prairies.





When smoke stacks stick from our lips

do you choke on the phlem expelled from our lungs,

tempting your wilted parts?

(There is water in there, just break it down with your

leaves and find the pieces you need.)

How rational do you view these rationalities?





Oh prairie please remember we care for your beauty,

but care not how it will stay. (How long will you wait?)

You have fought mother nature,

her winds and worst droughts,

but not knowing father time,

can you comprehend the offspring that is depleeting

and cheating you?

Will you weep when the bugs stop scratching your stems?

I weep as the bees leave and the beetles begin to belch

from their green guts after ingesting your roots...

for I know what is to come.

I weep for you prairies.





When blossoms are only pictures on walls,

you will unfortunately, be too soon forgotten.

I do not wish to deliver morose messages,

only to express to the winds in my ears

that I too, howl, and push through

(sometimes a destructive path, )

forever challenging and constantly changing.

Priairies, I too will one day wilt,

my memory too soon forgotten,

My prairies, I weep for you tonight.

G is for generosity, giving from a large heart to those in need.
R reminds me of her radiance, running throughout her smile of insouciance...
And A takes me to the earlier days of her being so animated
that N then becomes, naturally, the necessity to remember her this way.
Now dining with the divine, D reminds me of her dying
but M marks my memories with her mindful magnificence.
And for this, another A because she's just that amazing,
that her absence -although now abundant- is always
alight with her angelic life.