they did not know their mothers were grooming them to be Batman,
giving them capes of compassion and utility belts of courage.
Teaching them to always rise above their problems,
to raise their grades, to raise their children, to look up,
to reach for the stars, to reach for the pie in the sky.
Today, the power of that high high-rise,
once more luring them upward,
turns deadly when the planes hit.
Today, all they can do is descend,
ninety minutes and sixty-eight levels of stairs
carrying a wheel-chaired woman.
They make it outside right before the towers fall.
All the time going down,
hearing their mothers voices,
do what is right although your knees shake,
do what is right although your arms tremble,
do all you can,
even if it could take you into the ground.
About the Author
Linda Imbler is the author of the published poetry collections “Big Questions, Little Sleep” and “Lost and Found.” She is a Kansas-based Pushcart Prize Nominee. Her work has appeared in numerous national and international journals. Linda’s creative process and a current, complete listing of sites which have or will publish her work can be found at: