F.M. Nicholson — The Couple



They held hands, it said
and jumped to their deaths.
They, two of many
caught amidst conflagration
without hope of rescue.

They held hands: a couple,
lovers, friends, newly met?
Bonded in an instant
to an eternity beyond
the hellish world
they felt at their backs.


It was a nightmare day
of senseless deaths,
when bodies rained
with glass and steel
and concrete crumblings
from a distant sky,
a terror too huge
to comprehend.


Yet, when I pause
they come again, dancing
within my mind's eye:
two people, innocent,
choosing to abandon fire
and take flight, holding hands,
namelessly bound together
even as all was lost.


F.M. Nicholson