I just read an article about the memorial services being held today at Ground Zero. It said that people are being permitted to descend 7 stories underground to touch the spot where their loved ones died on 9/11.
Reading this caused me to involuntarily lurch forward in my seat and let out an audible moan, which quickly prompted an “Are you alright?” from my coworker. It was startling, my reaction, and totally primal… off-pitch with a melancholy depth, like a lone wolf howling at the moon. I hadn’t intended the noise, nor it seemed, did I possess the ability to prevent it. It just “happened.”
In the brief moment that it took me to read that sentence and let out that sound, I had assimilated their pain. The pain of the people surely still grieving. Of their loved ones who felt the earth quake beneath their feet. I am thinking of their fear, their panic, their desperation. I am thinking of the children whose parents went to work that day and never came home…
In some remote way, I am thinking of me. My father may not have been killed by terrorists, but how would I feel if someone invited me to go and stand where my dad had died? To touch the spot where the explosion claimed his life? To visualize the moment of impact, reflect upon whether or not he saw it coming, and question whether he suffered as the flames lapped at his panic-stricken body?
People have said that my father didn’t suffer, that it was “fast” and he never saw it coming. That is “comfort” to the tragically bereaved. If they are right and my father never knew what hit him, then he (and we) are “lucky” compared to the victims and families of 9/11.
Try and envision yourself absentmindedly glancing out your office window on any given Monday, only to realize the impending impact of a jetliner headed straight for your cubicle. Try and imagine being on the floors above or below, having no recourse other than to throw your body headlong out of the building. Try and imagine being the spouse or child frantically calling their loved one to check and see if they were in that wing of the pentagon, in that tower, in that plane, in that field, in that cubicle? Now, that’s suffering.
Should the desperate souls of those whose lives were robbed that day still be floating somewhere in some unreconciled dimension, may they somehow be comforted by knowing that we remember them… and we shall never forget.
The Fall: A Sestina
By Denise Petti
A perfect September day. All seemed right.
Hustling, bustling, and planning for the Fall
When a rattle so hard shook the whole earth,
And I cradled my unborn baby close.
I sat in horror and could only watch
A helpless nation as, head first, it dove.
Into a building, a plane fiercely dove
and nothing again would ever seem right.
Distraught, we felt wholly sickened to watch.
How could we have been prepared for the fall?
Surreal as appalling darkness drew close
So many children abandoned on earth.
Their bodies fell fast against the hard earth
as straight to the ground, two tall buildings dove.
Leveled and shocked, our wide eyes would not close
in prayer to a Dear God to make things right.
In anxious times, hopes rise and fall.
Heroes arrive… and with faith we all watch
I can recall glancing at my wrist watch
mere minutes before I had watched the earth
quake underfoot, and dust begin to fall
Glancing out the window at mourning doves
Would anything ever again feel right?
Claustrophobic deathbeds now drawn up close
Too soon for this wretched chapter to close
Too unbearable to just stand and watch
We clung to whatever we thought was right
and sobbed with despair into the dry earth
Into the silence, our empty prayers dove
and into the darkness our tears did fall
I shall never forget that dreadful fall,
No catastrophe will ever come close,
to the awful day our Twin Towers dove
and I could do nothing, but sit, stare and watch.
Paralyzed and anguished , glued to the earth,
Bewildered by what terrorists deemed right
Legs go weak and I fall. I cannot watch
Clutching my belly close, I hit the earth.
The doves take their shelter… nothing feels right.
So strangely ironic that you wrote this, because as I was driving in today listening to them talk about 9/11 on O & A, as they ranted about MSNBC replaying the footage in real time, and reminding us that those who live in NYC will not only never forget those images, but the smell that is stamped on their brain that they smelled for weeks after will never leave them.
While listening to this and thinking about watching those images over and over again, thinking gosh for those people who lost someone, what can it be like to watch those images every year, over and over again, knowing that is where your loved one died? How awful that must be, for an entire nation to remind you of the day and location that your loved one died.
You were the first one that came to my mind, thinking gosh I can’t imagine if this was the case with Uncle Bob, not that it will be a day you forget, but how much worse I think the anniversary of that day would be if every TV your turned on, every paper you looked at reminded you HEY TODAYS THE ANNIVERSARY!!! REMEMBER!!!! A sobering thought if you put yourself in their shoes…..xoxox
I watched a program on History Channel. It was comprised of footage that ordinary people took that day – not just news footage. People in their aprtments filming the building and the smoke… and then screaming when they saw the 2nd plane hit the 2nd building. I cried along with them as they ran out of their apartment and filmed people in the elevator – all freaking because they didn;t want to be on the 33rd floor.
I remembered how I felt that day- it brought all of that horror and disbelief back.
Our lives were never the same – just like they weren’t the same after our parents died.
Hey, your sestina was fantastic. It rocked me.
I want to add my remembrance: I was ironing in my family room. I had the TV on, but I guess I had turned down the sound at some point. I remember looking up and seeing the anchors for CNN shouting about something and then read the headlines going across the screen.
I turned up the sound and sat there frozen. I felt a panic attack each time they reported another building being hit.
When I heard about the Pentagon, I freaked. I called Jerry and we were talking about the safety of the kids. My home phone rang and my girlfriend yelled that she was going to the high school to get her kids – did I want her to get mine. For a moment, I was tempted to say yes – but I realized they were safe where they were.
I was alone in my house – I felt isolated. I called Patty and we prayed.