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by
Kara L.C. Jones
Remembering
all those who died on 9/11/01...
and all who have died before
& since.
I used to be a gale,
soaring into any room
with an outburst of laughter,
a pouring of sunny miracles.
But since my son died,
I am a sallow fog,
a damp veil hanging from
thin air
with the ability to unsettle
the marrow from your bones.
Most birds don't like
my moist tears on their
wings,
but some --
like the black birds --
gather to crowe dirges,
giving voice to sorrow
over the lands.
I used to be a gale
who would just breeze by.
Now I am a mist,
a permanent part of your
land.
Kara
is a different kind of parent,
now with two stepchildren
in college and one dead
son. When your parents die,
do you stop being their
child? Well, just because
Kara's son died, doesn't
mean she's stopped being
a parent -- though this
parenthood is manifest in
different ways than the
parenthood one might have
to a living four year old.
Is it a sick obsessive compulsion
that she cannot "get
over it" and "move
on"? No. It is a conscious
decision to have her son's
life and death change this
world for the better --
just as he might have done
if he were here to make
a difference himself, alive,
with his own two hands --
only this way the differences
come from Kara's channelling
of his legacy.
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