Jew in the suburbs

911 September 11 2001 New York
September 11, 2008, 1:44 am
Filed under: author, write | Tags: ,


I wrote this poem a few days after 9/11/2001


May the memory of all those killed be a blessing.








I am overcome with emotions.  I wish I could hide.  But, all I can do is run.  Run like the wind.  Let the wind carry me away as it carries a dove’s light feather.


But, where do I run to, where do I hide to escape the fear and sadness inside?  I am in the fiery pit, how this happened I can not tell.  Fire balls seem to follow me where ever I go, I can not escape the heat.


It was a beautiful day in one small moment everything has changed.  The sky that was once the richest purest blue is now red orange flames that can not be contained.  Nothing will ever be the same.


I am standing in the place I call home yet I feel bitterly cold and alone.

 My legs feel like stone.


People fill the streets we can all hear our heartbeats beating like heavy drums.  We hear the ground grumble as another strong tower falls to the ground like a domino.  It makes a horrible sound like no other I have heard. As if the earth opened up and swallowed us whole.


I fall to the ground.  It’s as if the world has stopped dead.  Everything but the pounding drum of my own heart.  The silence is  crurl and not even the sharpest of knives can cut through.


I must get up; I must survive the terror I feel inside. I feel weak, I can not speak.  My voice at this moment feels as cold as ice on the coldest of days.


Someone comes by and takes me by the hand, he looks dazed and confused he doesn’t understand.  I know how he feels because I feel the same way.  The sky is covered with a blanket of thick black and gray.


I hear another plane; do I dare look up at the sky?  Are we all going to die?  I am surrounded by cries that say please get us through this, I don’t want to die today, not this way.


Ash and papers seem to fly like a plane in the sky.  I wonder can the whole world hear my cries, hear the piecing screams, hear the battle cry of this great New York City.


They are cries that say where is my Mother?

Where is my father?

My sister, my brother, my husband my wife?

Who will take care of my children, who will tuck them in tonight?  Who will tell them the monsters can’t get them in the dead of night, and everything will be alright?


My legs are so numb they feel like hard stone, but I must go on, I must get through this  darkness and flames.  Death seems to engulf me like a thick black cloud of endless smoke.  I feel like I am going to chock.  I can taste and smell the bitterness of it as I pray.  I must not fall into the subway.


I can hear death; I can see it all too clear.

My best friend I know is in the world Trade Center is she Ok I pray.  On this day we get a glimpse true agony, darkness, fear, and despair.


I can not get through I can not see.  Who could commit such a deed?  Who hates like a disease, a pelage that spreads across the land destroying everything in sight. Hate is such a pointless, dark occupation.  Why don’t some people know that to be true?  Don’t they learn anything?


Will our lugs ever breathe the fresh air of life again?  My feet hurt.  I am overcome with icy blue pain and shock it surges through my body like the blue green lightning of a storm.  I can barely walk.  I can no longer speak for the words I can not find.  Today will forever be frozen in my mind.


This is not my home, it can not be.  This is a battle field where brave will die trying to save lives.  I don’t even know which way to go, which way to turn.  I am lost, lost in my own home.  My home has turned in to a war zone.  The city I love so much is coved with ash and dust.


Will this day ever end or will it be endless go on forever?  What will we do after today; will we ever see the light of day?  Will this fear ever go away?  I see day break it’s getting closer.


I made it through today, the sky looks so empty I don’t know what to say.  The city with the most beautiful skyline of lights is now darker than the darkest night.


Will we ever see the warm golden sun drinking up our tears, calming our fears, soaking up our pain, our sorrow?  New York I hear your cries, your tears are mine.