Remembering September 11

Picture from St. Patricks Cathedral in NYC

This is not a post about food or a book recommendation. This is a post to share about remembrances of September 11, 2001-- a day that stands vividly in my mind. I was a young teacher teaching a group of English students in high school at the time this tragedy happened. I remember not knowing what to do with my students when such a tragedy was unfolding. I remember that I was a sophomore in high school when the tragedy of the Challenger explosion happened, and I was keenly aware that this was going to be one of those moments where you remember where you were and what you were doing when the tragedy happened. It was a surreal day and night to say the least, and I was mostly struck by the silence that spread over everywhere-- it was almost as if the world stopped, and indeed it had. I remember that I went to bed late on September 11 as, like most, I was watching news coverage as more and more information came out about this day. As a dreamer and a wanna be writer, I penned this short poem when I woke up on September 12-- 25 years ago:

Morning: September 12, 2001

Out my window I looked

to ensure myself

the awakening world,

was not made of paper—

The deaf calm:

trees, caught between summer and fall,

birds, calling morning,

the lonely streetlamp light

breaking over my uncut lawn—

Our collective souls damaged,

cracked and huddled in pieces on the floor.

The world seems like interlocking,

fleeting canvases—some artist’s transient gift

of fragile pieces that had cheated us into reality—

and we:

translucent beings,

heaped before

the darkened remnants

of this masterpiece.

For a moment we had to gaze

at the past, halted briefly—

the future stood still

not stopped.