The Ghosts of New York

Two giants looming present although gone,
Cast shadows longer than their shadows were.
They darken the horizon at the dawn
In our minds. One looks, still expecting there
To see the columns reaching to the sky
Above the bleak surrounding cityscape.
Still a collective emotional high
Grips our consciousness. We watch the tape
Again, again, yet trying to make sense
Of what was seen. The images remain
Stamped in our mind’s eye. Voices make us tense
And turn; we hear a strange mystic refrain,
The lost beg visitors: “Please don’t forget
The price we paid.” Their absence is our debt.

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