Nine Eleven

Acrid smoke fills my lungs;                                   

it tastes of kerosene.

My computer has no power

and the phones are without signal or jammed.

Lord, lead me home.

I consider my options,

I think of family to prevent panic.

Up is fire and darkness,

down is 55 levels; no stairs or elevators.

Lord, lead me home

All around I feel the heat consume.

Through the shattered window

I can lean out to see confusion below;

Firemen coming,  people fleeing.

Lord, lead me home

I think of dying burned alive

and futility of any rescue.

My  choices have dwindled,

my destiny confronts.

Lord, lead me home