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Posted by
on Tuesday, August 29 @ 16:28:47 UTC
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: Last Tuesday
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on Tuesday, August 29 @ 16:28:47 UTC
conect11 writes:: " I. (Last Tuesday)
I'm still incredulous.
At first I could have sworn that it was a joke,
or a highly stupid mistake.
"Nobody misses that."
I said to Mike Trundy
at the Wyndham Hotel.
Jared and I went into the Winsors Bar
where the hotel guests had gathered
and nobody was going anywhere soon.
Everything happened in a flash
a great and terrible flash in the sky
and all I can think is how many peoples lives are wasted,
what purpose does this serve?
There is panic in the air I breathe
there is panic on the ground.
We've moved outside onto the square now
to watch the world on the giant television hanging
from the front of the building
on Playhouse Square.
There's just thick, black smoke
and no real answers to be had in it.
Is this truly what human beings are capable of doing
to each other?
I am sick,
I can't breathe.
There are people jumping out of windows
and I cry all the way down.
Extinguished.
Blotted from life.
Who gave anyone that authority?
Raw pain just turns to hurt
and I'm uneasy
as I ride the #22 down Lorain Road
past the Arab - owned businesses that night,
last Tuesday.
At home at Norb & Dot's or anywhere
there will be no escaping it.
It is everywhere.
I am livid at myself.
I prayed for years to let me live past the draft age
without being called.
God gave me what I asked for,
but funny how things turn out.
My son now lives in this world
and he's barely a year old.
There's no going back,
everyone's affected, even the guys waving the flags at the corner
holding the signs that say "honk if you love U.S.A."
Will they be there in a week?
Or ten days?
There's blood to be had
pouring in to every Red - Cross
but not nearly enough living victims.
Darkness.
Building 7 comes down ignonomously
in a light drizzle.
II. (Path Station - June, 2005)
There's nothing to warn me of my approach to it.
I walk down Broadway vaguely looking for Battery Park
knowing from CNN and Headline News that if I find it
I'll be relatively close.
About a quarter - mile ahead past city hall
is a chain link fence with
"World Trade Center PATH Station."
This is a pit.
I refuse to call it "ground zero,"
or to label it in anyway.
This is a grave,
sacred ground.
Somewhere inside there is a primal scream.
Nothing articulate just pain,
raw emotion and pain.
Everyone I've met on this vacation
most likely knew someone who is still here
and will be here forever.
There are temporary walkways around the perimeter,
enclosed in glass.
One of them leads to one financial center
and I read up all on the muddled plans for redevelopment
that a year later haven't gone any further.
This is a grave,
this is a pit
in the truest sense of the word.
Guided tours are available every hour
and I'm not sure which makes me more nauseated.
Thankfully, this is not the majority view.
Godspeed, New York.
III. (Steven)
He is affected.
I met him this morning in the usual temp - employer role
as he reported to me.
I can tell he's ex or current military.
Army to be precise,
reserves to be more precise.
Been serving 15 years I've found out.
"Have you been deployed?"
I ask him.
"Twice, to Afganistan and the Gulf" he tells me.
I think of the boys from Brookpark and Karen Polamsky's son.
I think of Nick Berg, and Daniel Pearl
and what did they lose their heads for?
Whose freedom are we fighting for? I will not judge that.
I can tell you it is no ordinary man who walks into hell
and tells you "it's just what I do, sir."
I think of Summer, and the birthday she'll never have again.
And my children,
I hope their lives are safe.
Perhaps this is the world that people like Steven are fighting to save.
Godspeed, Steven.
"
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Average Score: 4
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