One of the first things I saw after I woke up this morning was the picture known as "The Falling Man," a businessman in a white shirt and dark pants plummeting, head down, from the burning, wrecked hulk of the World Trade Center. I don't think about 9/11 much any more, so I was surprised by the impact the way that image evoked a sudden rush of memories from that day. I drove to work feeling like a vice was squeezing my heart up through my throat. During my commute, this poem began taking shape in my mind. I used to write a lot of poetry. I stopped when I got married because my wife has no taste for it and I have no room in my life right now for hanging around spoken-word events. So I'll take this one as a gift from the Universe.
"Mourn once more this morning"
Mourn
Once more
This morning
The memory
Of blue sky and fire
Of the people who fell
Of symbols crashing to earth
Of dust and destruction and death
Of calculated acts of madness.
Mourn, once more, this morning the memory
Of a land unpolluted by war
Of people unpoisoned by fear
Of those young lives unwasted
Of times with less mistrust
Of days before. Savor
The memory.
This morning,
Once more,
Mourn.
9/11/13
