I remember...

where I was,

at that moment,
on that morning,
on that day;
the sunshine,
the smell in the air,
the radio station I was listening to,
what I was doing when I first heard,
the address,
the pictures on the TV,
the tears,
the fear,
the crying,
the sobbing,
the thinking of family,
of friends, long since seperated from;
the fire, the explosion, the planes;
the people running,
jumping,
coughing,
with hands and cloths over their faces, trying to breath;
the crowds, running,
looking over their shoulders
as the cloud of dust rolls through and over the maze of buildings,
approaching like a wild hungry beast;
the surreal feeling that overtook me as I watched a building collapse,
then another;
thinking, was this a movie? Was this real?
the realization that someone did this,
that someone hated us,
that someone wanted us destroyed;
turning to God, asking for answers,
seeking purpose;
gluing my eyes to the TV
looking for more;
looking next to me as that person was seeing the same thing, experiencing the same feelings, seeking the same answers;
having a common experience with my neighbors, and all I came into contact with;
thinking about my family
my old neighbors,
my old classmates and their families,
asking, were any of them victims in this?
going to church, and the crowds
trying to heal or be healed;
a sense of resolve,
a weird sense of pride in
being an American;
the firemen running, racing,
the police staring up, looking for those to help, trying to make sense;
those who innocently lost,
who fought,
who tried to save;
men in baggy yellow pants, with
wide suspenders,
digging with buckets, looking for people,
the rubble;
the dust;
the steel beams;
the sadness,
the grief,
the pain,
the struggle to heal, to make sense;

9/12.


It's not that I won't forget, it is that I remember...