September 11, 2001



The years have passed of life, and love, and dreams,
But I am still affected by events
That happened there just yesterday, it seems,
And even now it keeps my feelings tense.

That day began as just another day,
Another step in Time’s relentless walk.
The street was still that morning, save the sound
Of birds whose song comprised their daily talk.

The bus arrived on time, but I did not,
And so I looked for one to take its place.
The sun awoke and rose; my only thoughts
Were fixed upon the slow retreat of space.

Arriving at my desk, I settled in
To organize the work that filled my space
With no awareness what my future held:
My life would change with what would soon take place.

A colleague turned his radio to news;
I heard excited voices tell the tale,
And hearing the reporter give his views,
My blood turned cold…my skin turned very pale.

He spoke of skies turned black that stole each breath
From those encased within the lethal cloud,
Of planes whose flights brought violence and death
Upon a place that once stood tall and proud.

I witnessed people falling through the air…
The ones alive who made their final choice,
Whose broken bodies, feeling the despair,
Were shattered without cause, without a voice.

Eventually, I heard the sirens scream,
A herald to assistance and relief,
And prayed in vain for this to be dream
Instead of a scenario of grief.

While gazing through the window at my town,
The city’s streets became a frenzied maze:
Re-routed cars and buses up and down,
While people milled about, confused and dazed.

Policemen stood in vigil, guarding shrines
Of government and each commercial place;
The city filled with slowly moving lines
Of anguish etched upon each person’s face.

The boss declared our working day at end,
And sent us home believing in the hope
Tomorrow would find better news to send
To help find the ways and means to cope.

I wandered through the endless human sea
And pondered all the questions of our fate:
Who and why, and most important, how
Could anyone be guided by such hate?

That night, with every child asleep in bed,
I wept at every image shown anew:
The carnage turning living into dead,
The brave ones helping frailer people through.

My prayers, then and now, are all the same:
For healing for the loved ones left behind;
Protection for the ones God knows by name;
And as we face our future, peace of mind.

© 2001, 2007 by Robert E. Blackwell