I’m sure all Americans who were adults, even children on September 11, 2001 remember the horror of that September day. Ten days later I was on a plane from Tucson to Seattle and the images of buildings toppling and people throwing themselves into the air were fresh in my mind. Could it happen again? When? Where? How would it feel to be the sacrifice to that terror. This is the poem I wrote while on the plane to Seattle. On the twenty-third anniversary, I am wrapped in the emotions I felt that day.
Billowing palisades, pewter airfalls
Cascade in slow motion
Overflowing the fountain of commerce
Gracefull and grotesque
Soft tarnished silver clouds
Enfold futures lost
Spewing them
Into a bright Manhattan morning
Elegant plumes tumble gently one over another
Carrying tattered remnants of lives
Ripping spirits from bodies
Turning their shells to ash
Is there a torture more sublime
Moment by moment terror
Smelling the hot acrid breath of death
Approaching their prison in the sky?
Does hope flee quickly
Or does it leak slowing
From the corners of their eyes
As the dusk of life turns to night?
Written September 21, 2001 on a plane from Tucson to Seattle.
wonkagranny 