Stardust

On 9/11 my thoughts became like stardust.

And I thought of ash-covered people fleeing down narrow streets. And tiny human figures trapped inside smoke and flame.

And I thought of the passengers who fought back. And of the gay man among them.

And I thought of the fire fighters and emergency workers. And doctors and nurses. And ministers. And the elderly store owner who gave water to strangers.

But then I pondered on the hearts of young Arab men seeking to be launched into paradise.

And I wondered about the grieving mothers of the victims and the hijackers. Separated by distance, and space, and ideology. But united by the loss of a child.

PAX!