Like a bench in a park.
With trees surrounding.
It sits, motionless.
I see the clear water rippling in the isolated rectangle.
The light bounces onto the bench like it’s dancing.
I’m a child. I’m a teenager.
I watch. Not knowing those who died.
I am pulled back to real life.
Gravel moves as if disturbed.
Soft chatter moves by,
like spirits.
He walks by but the names stay in the water.
Never thought of.
Light in dark places.
Light in the water.
Soaring in.
The plane,
like wings on a
bird.
A bird of prey.
Diving in
for the kill.
I’m a passenger.
Never knowing.
Names shimmer in the water, with the wind.
Many benches sit.
Motionless.
Facing.
Some turned away.
As if they are too sad.
Their sorrows unbearable.