She’s caught in the rush of hurrying feet 
Snippets of conversations 
Of laughter, exclamations 
She’s caught in a tidal wave 
Of teeming, streaming life 
She’s caught in the swell 
Of people of voices, of sights and smells 
Riding the vital wave
Pushing ahead 
Her silk scarf catches the breeze 
Of swelling, surging humanity 
She feels it pull 
Floating just a little in front of her 
She quickens her step
Her feet instinctively keeping up 
With the urgency of life 
She feels something 
In her gut, the pit of her stomach 
A ripple, almost a laugh! 
She inhales deeply, she can’t place 
This sudden lightness of being 
It feels out of place 
This morning, mourning 
She had felt like lead 
Now like vapor she rises up 
Colourless, clean
In that moment she’s someone else 
Propelling her body like a comet
Lighter, brighter almost serene

She arrives at her gate 
8A
The same number, the place 
Where this very morning
She had buried them
She had forgotten 
For a few moments 
Who she was 
She was desolation and grief itself 
Wearing the bruises of loss 
Mourning only this morning
It all came back dawning 
As she came to herself 
As her blood remembered 
And curdled inside 
A freezing, heaving cauldron of chills 
She sank into the depths of her seat 
9B 
There was a sequence
Monumental, compelling
To her agony
She had to remember 
She couldn’t forget 
Her world had ended
When she had buried her dead.