I'm back with another high school poem to share! With the subject matter of the poem, I think you can understand why this took a bit to work up to sharing.
Day dawns bright and clear only marred by early morning classes
Disaster strikes like an explosion, everyone cannot escape, everything obscured by a thick fog of tears and sorrow
Tears flow and shock runs deep, nobody can work, nobody can concentrate, everyone vacant-eyed and weary
Day ends in pain and sorrow, no relief in sight, only nightmares of sadness, loneliness, and lost loved ones
I had to dig deep for this one, and likely had to when I wrote the poem years after the day in question. I'm not sure that I like remembering that terrible day. Even many more years later that morning is still a numb shock in my mind. I was never close to anyone directly affected by it. I felt sadness and terror, sure, but it was muted by a numbness I cannot fully describe. I think I honestly was worried that I wasn't feeling enough that morning. I remember going through the motions but nothing was sticking, I barely remember anything from that entire day. We all were in such shock...
I do remember showing up at school and the extreme sorrow of realizing that someone could do something so horrific to intentionally take the lives of others. I don't know if I heard before or at school, there is this weird compression of time and place of that day in my head. But I'm pretty sure that this was my first big understanding that while there is good in humanity, there is also such darkness and violence.
As I don't remember the assignment details I cannot say for certain but I seem to remember that this was one of the "required" type of poems. I don't know that I necessarily wanted to write about this. (And I think it shows in the writing execution.) Either that or this was just one of the better poems I had at the time that fit the details. I have a whole stack of other poems that didn't make the cut. Someday, maybe, I'll share those that were not worthy of this high school project.
As for the design of the buildings and the flames, I have no recollection of what was intentional and what was my air of I just threw this together. Seeing it with more experienced eyes I find that the askew windows seem aptly appropriate for the subject matter, though I do suspect that it wasn't THAT intentional.
I again find myself in awe that I would share this with the world (both then and now) and cringing at my actual teenaged level of skill. It's a further lesson in humility and laughing at myself, in love, of course, always in love.
—A Recovering Design Imposter