Each year during this week I cannot help but revisit memories of 9/11. Such a pivotal moment in our nation's history. It has informed everything that has happened in our country since, socially and politically, nationally and abroad. The question is always asked, "Where were you?" I was a senior in high school, participating in my elective class, chorus. We were singing Amazing Grace. If my memory serves me, we were sent home early from school. For several days we were glued to the television as reports kept rolling in of the loss, the devastation, the bravery, the calls for unity and action. As a senior in my creative writing class, I was to create a senior project. As a poet, words were already flowing from me as I reflected on events and so I decided to write a series of poems for 9/11. It was entitled, Searching.
"When writing this particular book I felt that everyone was and still is searching in some way. We search for words. We search for answers. We search for healing. We search the earth. We search the sky. What are we looking for? Protection? Danger? Everyone is searching for a different sign, a different path to follow. A different way to grieve."
Every year since 2001 I have gone back and read these poems. Like a journal entry they take me back in time to my thoughts and feelings on 9/11 and the days that followed. I thought that this week, maybe I would take you along on that journey with me. Perhaps, if you have a moment, you can reflect on how 9/11 has changed you? How have such painful events and all of these atrocities that have occurred since, how have you responded to them? Are you still searching? What are you seeking? I know that for my part, I chose to be ordained for ministry on September 11, 2010. I did not make that choice lightly 6 years ago, and I do not take the weight of it lightly even now. I wanted to remember the day for something positive and good. And I wanted to be reminded that a huge part of my call to the ministry is to walk alongside those who are searching and need to be shown God's grace.
+Durable+
Do not speak
of our country's
Steel resolve.
For steel is weak--
it melts under fire,
bends under pressure,
and in demise
it buries millions
of innocents.
+He Weeps+
Jesus cries with us.
He is in the rubble.
He would not focus
on the "who" or the "why"
But on human lives.
He would send the souls
o our Father and let alone
the pointing of fingers.
He would pray for everyone,
even the villains and followers.
Because judgement day will come
tribulation far worse than we could ever give.
+Fallen+
Moth to a flame
they came
by the hundreds
to save the lives
of nameless faces
from the fire.
They gave their lives
singed wings
collapsing to the ground
only to acquire new ones.
Fallen heroes,
risen angels.
Like a caterpillar
to a monarch.
Living for the job
was only the first stage.
They lived for the Lord
and he wove them wings.
+Unsung+
We give blood like candy
praying that we might
catch some drop of life
from the rain of blood, sweat, and tears
that fall heavy through the ash.
We pass out blankets
to cover cold bodies
that emerge from the crypt
as if heat will make blood flow
through collapsed veins
while the fires still burn.
We hold our breath
saving the oxygen
for some unsung hero
who we believe
deserves it more.
+For Two+
Swollen feet stumble
down eighty-two flights of stairs,
ribcage of the North Tower.
Dodging steel, coughing smoke;
she eats, sleeps, breathes for two.
Narrowly, through a hole, she escapes.
Closing lungs, collapsing corridor;
scrambling, screaming, dizziness.
She stumbles for two.
On the street
She gasps for fresh air.
Her water breaks there.
And feeling like the dying
deserve more of a rescue
she asks a volunteer to hold her hand
as she traipses two blocks
to give birth to a child
whom she will call, Salam,
a word for peace.
She thanks Allah.
+Silence+
A moment of silence
Silence never screamed so loud
Heads bow to pray
Praying again, for yesterday
A moment of silence
Silence never screamed so loud
The flag waves
waves good-bye to the brave
A moment of silence
Silence never screamed so loud
Blood is drawn
drawn for the healing; from the enemy
A moment of silence
Silence never screamed so loud
A hero stands strong
strong enough to shed a tear
A moment of silence
Silence never screamed so loud.
