ref “9.11”
The Falling Man
When there’s no choice,
but die or die,
but only space
for how to die,
by flame or fly,
by burning slow, or diving death,
a lonely place, not if or why,
but stay in pain,
or quicker fall -
what is the choice when none at all?
To celebrate as heroes, should,
but brush away the harshest day -
that falling man had had his day -
remain in hell, or fly away.
You look away?
It’s for the man, not you I say:
the unknown soldier
in the air
as life laid down,
the falling man.
Stephen Kingsnorth (Cambridge M.A., English & Religious Studies), retired to Wales, UK, from ministry in the Methodist Church due to Parkinson’s Disease, has had pieces curated and published by on-line poetry sites, printed journals and anthologies, including Lothlorien Poetry Journal. He has, like so many, been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. His blog is at https://poetrykingsnorth.wordpress.com
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