by David Leigh
Saturday, November 16, 2002
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"Eighty third floor sir" Thank you" You're welcome"
A lift door yawns to a muffled "Dong"
"Do you come here each day" "Actually... seldom"
Voices of life in the opening song.
A percussive, background clatter of plates
Piccolo'ed cell phones heighten the theme.
The overture lifts, builds and creates
The mood and setting for this late summer's dream.
Movement, vitality, energy abounds
The chorus up lifting, rises and falls
Lobbies echo to a million sounds
Absorbed, and stored in the steel framed walls.
The first movement opens in the usual way
Gossip and chatter, as the cast relate
In a typically 'Gilbert and Sullivan' play
But luckily for some the train runs late.
The opera takes a dramatic turn
That no one predicted, they were ill prepared
Many would jump while thousands burned
The lucky ones ran from the building scared.
A crescendo of horror as the world stood by
The heroes ran in and gave their lives
No one new how many would die
Watched in sorrow by children and wives.
Silence in the absence of music,
In stillness but for the constant few who toil to retrieve the dead.
They are offered rest but refuse it.
And will not cease until the last body's raised and the rights are read.
"Eighty third floor sir" "thank you" "You're welcome"
A worker listens to every word
"Do you come here each day?" "Actually... seldom"
Work stops! as a cell phone in the rubble is heard.
From cracks in the concrete words ooze like cement.
There's a clatter of plates from somewhere below
The office boy's whistle, a tune less lament
A lift bell chimes muffled and low.
The Opera continues at least in the head
For survivors who can't fail to remember
And will play on forever with a cast from the dead
The tragedy 'New York, eleven September
From my 9/11 contribution "Puzzling Thoughts" On sale on my Web site or from damnyankee.com
Publishers in Maine
Damn Yankee Publishing