It had the look of it...
a life in tatters
wrecked beyond
recovery.
It seemed, in dust and smoke,
a ruin complete
an ending
fully done
Where hope and goodness
had died
in twisting pain
upon the street.
But there are strengths
of heart,
of mind and soul
embedded
In the beings of those few
who know the real
way of it
is more
Than what lies dying
at your feet
in quiet bleeding
flesh.
And, he, being one of those,
lifted up his eyes
his heart
his inner self,
And lived and stood amidst
the wreckage,
unwrecked
and whole
Intending there be more
than all the ashes
and the death
and the taste of dust.
Jo Anzalone (doing a bit of free verse)