Special Feature: “On the skyline, there are stars” by John C. Mannone, Frequent Contributor

On the skyline, there are stars
John C. Mannone

After "Memorial Lights" by Robert Wirth

Last night, thunder-rain pummeled

the great trees: leaves on the ground

and broken branches.

September ushers in the fall

and hurricanes, and storms.

This morning, the birds were quiet

and in their moments of silence

I could hear the names of the fallen

sparrows.

September ushers in the fall

and hurricanes, and storms.

This afternoon, I saw towers

of clouds lean into the wind

before they dissipated into sky.

No longer is there fire-and-ash

rising, or the billows of hatred,

only shafts of light, soft and blue,

like ether—the soul of the city.

September ushers in the fall

and hurricanes, and storms

but also Rosh Hashanah

and atonement. I think of Christ

and His birth this time of year

(not Christmas), and the hope

this Prince will bring

when He returns: Peace on Earth

and all the good will we need.

Tonight, the stars kneel, I see

their hearts scintillate the horizon,

each one a prayer,

all three thousand of them.

Poet's Notes:  I wrote a poem every day during a writing marathon in September 2015. Before I turned out the lights just before midnight on the 10^th, I knew what I had to do in the morning but I was reticent to do it. When the morning of the 11^th arrived, I didn’t know if I could make that much emotional investment again to write a 9-11 poem but I felt compelled to do it.

I awakened early, wrestled in the morning breeze sifting through the screen door. I smelled the after-storm of a gully-washer that we had throughout the night—it infused the air. And the wrenching I had endured from that act of terrorism fourteen years earlier was still deeply, yet strangely ensconced in my heart. When I left the house, I saw the storm “debris”—the scattered branches and leaves, the tumbled garbage cans, the imagined birds in distress. And while I was driving to Knoxville an hour to the north, I got additional glimpses for the poem—especially the towering cumulus clouds leaning from upper level winds pushing into them.

Later, when I looked at a photograph, “Memorial Lights” by Robert Wirth, everything fell into place (in yet an unexplained way), and “On the skyline, there are stars” was born.  (See http://cdn.c.photoshelter.com/img-get/I0000r6rkO0gRbng/s/850/850/911-memorial-lights.jpg).

Editor’s Note:  This poem works as ekphrastic and stand-alone.  It is a beautiful elegy for the fallen of September 11, 2001.  I especially appreciate the message of hope and remembrance at the end. “On the skyline, there are stars” was a finalist in last year's Songs of Eretz Poetry Award Contest.  

As a side note, Rosh Hashanah falls in October this year but often falls in September, depending upon the lunar calendar followed by the Jews.  

A further side note:  Since "Memorial Lights" is under copyright, only a link to it could be provided--it could not be published here.