Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A storm of paper fluttered from the sky
words of inspiration printed with a bold black maker
phrases like “View the valleys from the hilltops.”
“Capture moments of peace.”
“Look around and find true love.”
Simple messages fluttering toward their targets
to inspire random strangers.
A rainbow of color, red, yellow, green
it should have evoked a feeling of joy
but instead I cried, I wondered why?
People on the sidewalk looked up and reached
for the falling manuscripts.
There was an excitement in the street
some rushed to grasp a specific color
others caught the closest page.
Art in its true form,
created and delivered to the viewer
and yet I cried… why?
Dwelling on the visceral image I remember another scene
when paper fluttered from on high … it was September 11th.
planes crashed into the World’s Trade Center
and reams of paper like giant snowflakes
fell, littering the street, a detail almost unnoticed
because of the larger debris and carnage.
I didn’t know I remembered that detail until tears fell
several years later , while sitting in a theater
watching a musical comedy about ordinary days.