I'll Never Forget

I do not remember any of their far-away names,
those swallowed by that black September day.
But I do remember her.
Our families had long known each another,
I always easily ten years her senior.
For time upon time,
as long as I could remember,
she embodied youth, innocence, goodness.

She paused at the door to my office
to say 'I think something's happening.'
We walked to a room where televisions
broadcast O beautiful's scourge.
We stood shouldered in quiet, image after image eroding
our shores of amber grain.
Our bodies did not touch in those moments,
but rather our souls.
We shared a more perfect union of loss.
She searched my eyes and
I saw her suddenly older,
no longer the girl I'd known.
Her wordless question of 'what now?'
found me dumb.

I do not remember any of their far-away names,
those raptured into spacious skies that day.
But I do remember her,
as I remember me, cast ready-or-not
further east of the garden.
I remember Ellen.