United are we

We stood
Holding hands
While the sun curled
Around our shoulders,
Burning us through
Our clothes.
Our bodies draped
In a circle, we
Sang as if we were
The Whos in Whoville
And Dr. Seuss was the
Conductor of this
Serenade to a lost moment.
I memorized the patterns
Of the bricks, each
Shifted 90 degrees to
Back against another,
Tiled wonders that were
Blown out of time,
Ticked off lives across
A kaleidoscope of smoke,
Firemen, and torn dreams.
The intakes of breath
Around me are shallow,
Just as the oxygen was
When some chose to jump
And reach a chasm where
Only God could place his
Palm beneath them to cushion
Their disastrous, chaotic
Fall from life.
The sun kisses the back
Of my neck. I can feel
The small hairs flatten
With perspiration as the final bell
Tolls and the conductor says,
"Depart in peace". Our hands
Separate, a wall breaking apart,
A building smashing into the ground,
The disassembled fragments
Scattering towards the lunchroom,
Classes and cell phone calls with
Distraught boyfriends and distant
Mothers. But, while the Whos felt
A feeling of joy when they receded
From their decorated and recaptured
Christmas tree, I only felt alone,
One ant caught separate from
The others, when we were always
Supposed to be united.