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I do not mourn for New York
because songs can’t die
and New York is our song
America’s song
yet I stand in disbelief
knowing we all die
my Shawna died
for no real reason
for no cause
and without song
just the silence of brakes
and I can’t comprehend either
I can only hear the sound
of New York
emanating from Westchester Hills Cemetery
Gershwin’s blues rhapsodize the
blood red of the fire stations
while from the Bronx
Miles plays his own
kind of blues to soothe us all
as Irving Berlin’s
God Bless America ends with
a question mark
over in Brooklyn
Bernstein’s West Side Story
has spread its borders
into Manhattan
as tragedies magnify
while Coltrane’s
Love Supreme struggles
to belong
yet the sound that captures me
and my posture
is the final chord struck
by Johnny Thunders
from Flushing
reverberating
like the sound of God crying
as his creation spirals downward
once again
and I still don’t mourn for New York
I will sing
because they have given me
the gift
of a song to mourn with
©2002, Skip Shea
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