Flight 77

On the wide path from Dulles to the sun,
A plane took flight, its passengers at peace.
A journey toward a day already done,
A westward flight, a promise of release.
But in the air, a shadow came to stand,
And turned the steel bird on a twisted track.
It flew no more across the peaceful land,
But toward a building that would not fight back.
A final plunge, a fire, and a roar,
A wound was opened on a hallowed stone.
Another grief beyond the ocean's shore,
A different loss, a sorrow on its own.
And in the wall, a scar remains to show,
The place where Flight 77 fell below.

Sad, Monotone, Contemporary