By Dionna Dash

All the smoke of the past had not prepared us for the gray of that morning

City sirens bloody red and incessantly inflamed

Clinging to the carpet, tucking away an identity

Prayer and painless ascension

The clouds roared and the sky wept

2,000 umbrellas blocked out the horrible ugly saline

Our tears were stone but our hearts were harder

So brittle they cracked into 11 pieces

The azure vastness spit on the funeral procession

Clarity and Cleansing gently pelted down

Like the bullets quietly replacing the righteous souls

Screaming silently into outstretched arms