September 11, 2013

Reflection

Whenever I wake up on September 11th each year, I can't help but feel somber. I still vividly remember that day 12 years ago, and how it affected my family, specifically my dad. He was in D.C. on that day, and watched the Pentagon burn from his building. He has always had a gift for writing, and has written many amazing poems since then. I would like to post them somewhere for others who might appreciate them. :)

Written on the night of September 11, 2001 in D.C.

Shades of Gray and Gold

Streaking planes, steel gray,
become hatred-fueled, human-filled missiles
bursting into flames of gold.
Inverse eruptions, concrete gray,
descend from two tall, too-tall towers
murdering traders of gold.

Billowing clouds, smoke gray,
rise from a fire-scarred, five-sided building
melting epaulets of gold.

Towering spires, granite gray,
proud with world-warning, truth-trumpeting angel
glowing in robes of gold …
What will this mean for you ?

Prophets inspired, bridging shades of gray
between peace and patriotism, poverty and pride,
speaking from hearts of gold …
When will it end?

Emotions torn, outlook gray,
pure-pacifist parents of soldier-age sons
turning the page from a Golden Age …
Where will we turn?

Why is it allowed, this graying trial?
Who will end it? …
How is it more precious than gold?

Written 1 year later, September 11, 2002.

D.C.

A scene of the Crime

and time

has made the wall whole.

The stone is new-quarried,

but seems more vulnerable.



NYC

A scene of the Crime

and time

has left the hole depressing.

The skyline is cleaner,

but seems soiled by void.



PA.

A scene of the Crime

and time

has the depression healing.

The charred scar is greening,

but seems infected.


I

have seen the scenes

and time

has not healed, cleaned, made whole.

My heart, still scarred,

is infected, soiled and vulnerable.


Written 5 years later. September 11, 2006

September Mourn


A perfect redpurple dawn.

A quarter-score years and ten days ago I sat on this same step.

Lincoln, in his temple, dressed in white looked out over my head

at this same monumental view.


A repeat redpurple dawn

a quarter-score years and ten days after four planes sliced this same sky

Washington’s obelisk, still stark white, points to heaven over anation

monumentally changed.


Written 10 years later. September 11, 2011

Thoughts on the State of the Union


6:46 MST 9/11/01


The 2,731 in the towers and Pentagon:

"beautiful morning"

"hope they got off to school OK"

"we are special, even righteous"

"our just actions have been rewarded"

"yesterday NPR said we are the new Rome"

"we are strong"



The 246 on flights 11, 175, 77, 93:

"beautiful morning"

"good day to travel"

"I wonder if he, she, they are awake yet?"

"why are those guys yelling?"



The 19 killers:

"beautiful morning"

"we are special"

"we are righteous"

"our action is just"

"God will reward us"

"we will defeat the Crusaders"

The 3 or 4 planners:

"they are weak"

"we can use our young, desperate,

devoted to kill some frighten the rest"

"we can lure them here,

get them to compromise their ideals,

divide them, break them"


6:45 MST 9/11/11


The 6 million across the "homeland:"

"what (or who) is next?"

"why are we still over there?"

"why did we compromise - why so weak?"

"whence our reputation for justice, peace?"

"we are divided and broke"



The 136 passengers on

AA flight 385 to Dallas/Fort Worth:

"it must be on every passenger's mind"

"will it be mentioned?"

"moment of silence?"

"or are flight crews superstitious?"

"who is that olive-skinned guy across the aisle?"

"I hope he doesn't stand up."


Written 11 years later. September 11, 2012.

On this date


On the morning

Of the eleventh day

Of the ninth month

In 1857

True believers murdered innocents

In a meadow

In southern Utah

In the name of God



On the morning

Of the ninth day

Of the eleventh month

In 1938

True believers murdered innocents

In a ghetto

In Poland

In the name of God



On the morning

Of the eleventh day

Of the ninth month

In 2001

True believers murdered innocents

In towers

In New York

In the name of God



On the morning

Of the first resurrection

Of the human race

In the future

Innocents will stand as witnesses

In testimony

In his presence

In the name of God



Those who did not question

Who blindly followed

Who did not doubt

Will reap their reward

In eternity

In the name of God


I am very thankful for my dad, and these words. Tears this morning as I read these beautiful works of art. Here are some pictures of a few of my visits to NYC and DC. Love those cities.






















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