When I heard the distant sound of sirens,
when I saw the faint blue and red flicker
against the white sidewalks,
making the rooftops bleed,
When I was forced to peer out my window
and wonder what it was like
to see the night sky
for the last time,
I began to catch my breath.
I became silent enough
to hear the working parts inside of me
keep themselves alive.
I looked upward
and saw my breath leave my body
and I was there.
I was alive.
And I could see snow begin to fall
and I looked even closer
toward the home of each tiny flake that eventually
fell to the ground.
Each tiny piece of the sky fell onto my tired eyes
and I wondered if it was falling
so someone who would never see the sky again
could at least feel it one last time.
And I wondered if the pieces of the sky missed
being up that high,
watching everything below,
instead of turning red then blue.
