How hard, hard, hard is it to deal
With what the survivors must feel —
The mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers
And so, so many others?
The horror reverberates
From the marrow of one’s bones across states,
Overseas.
Weak in the knees.
Sick to the stomach.
Spirits plummet.
On the summit, a climber stands
And raises her hands
And screams and screams and screams.
Vibrations tear at the seams.
She gasps for air;
She drops as if in prayer.
Fellow climbers stare.
Across continents,
Into the stratosphere
Touching the bowels of hell
Shock and horror are here, there, everywhere,
Even if we pretend it is just another summer Sunday.