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Duke's corner dc4/6/2024 ![]() We are never alone as we die.įramed and fleeting, as the literal windowsĪt which they will not reappear, waving. Grow the bitter twins of insight: We are alwaysĪlone as we die. In the shrine of consciousness they live as they livedīefore - but out of grief, out of the rubble of reason Which is ever-lasting in its sustaining contradictions. It mightīe said that nothing permanent is left but our grief, Said that nothing permanent is left of them. Trader flashing a thumbs-up at the monitor, the fire-įighter lifting the charred body in his arms - allīecome ash at the same instant. The coffee-maker to fill her second cup, the bond Inward … the mind interrogates the particularįor relief. When the glittering columns buckle and fall When steel disintegrates, when metal wings This poem contains an image which was given to me by someone who was in the Pentagon at the time of the attack: the pedestal upon which a dictionary lay open, standing in the rubble. The place where private grief joins the public community of sorrow is the place where this poem resides. This poem is dedicated to the memory of my late husband, the actor David Dukes, who died on this day one year ago – and to all those who perished in the September 11th tragedy in New York City and Washington, D.C. ![]()
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