The broadcast is interrupted
as the electric messenger
brings us the news, and
the one-eyed hypnotist
casts his spell. We look
deep into his eye, and
we cannot turn away
from the ugly picture.
Cauliflower cloud, black and
orange. Rolling, billowing,
rising skyward. Image forever
scorched into our collective
memory. Sirens scream amid
soft sobs. People in disbelief,
shock, suffering unbearably.
Then the unthinkable happens,
and clouds of ash thunder
through limestone canyons,
covering everything in
a modern day Pompeii.
Hopes, dreams, plans and
schemes evaporate in less
than a New York minute.
Uninterrupted terror flows
from one second to the next.
The city’s Finest and Bravest
make the supreme sacrifice,
and common people become
the most uncommon heroes.
Hard hats and soft hearts
scramble frantically in
a search for survivors.
We soon realize that the
good, old days are gone,
and life has changed forever.
The Lady in the harbor weeps,
and the whole world watches
as morning becomes mourning.
In the final hour, the victims
show us the true meanings
of courage and devotion.
With their last calls and
sweet goodbyes, they reveal
what’s really important.
Love, family, and friends.
People vanished but a
People not vanquished.
Out of the ashes America
rises for the final round.
Now over there is over here,
but freedom will endure.
In tribute to those who
died, we will live, but
we will never forget.

And that’s the way it was,
Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

©2001 Marilyn Hanna Brackney