In memory

Today is a day of quiet remembrance. Of sadness. And of a quiet pride and thankfulness for all those who serve... the firefighters, police, rescue workers, soldiers, all the sheepdogs of the world. I am a sheep... and the sheep of this world are forever in the debt to those sheepdogs for we must never forget the wolves are out there, still.

A while back, I wrote this piece in memory of this day. I am well aware of how inadequate it is.



The City's Heart

The city was a slumbering giant of concrete and steel. The people within pulsed life through the city, hurried and harried, barely noticing others rushing by. Under the ground they scurried in their trains in the never-ending race to their destination, following paths carved out through the ages. Overhead, the city formed a canopy of towering buildings, shadowing those below and shaping the sky with abstract forms. And over them all, two towers, tall and proud, stood among the rest looking over those below, watching and guarding.

All around, within the giant, dreams were held tight in hand as the rush continued, chasing money and power, love and joy, tasting the passing time. The people were the life's blood of the giant and they remained in constant motion, flowing through the streets. The cadence of business and the counter point of the traffic gave a soundtrack to the giant's life. The hum of life in the city was everywhere, and even so, the giant's heart remained cold.

As the giant slept, comfortable in the habits of its day, dreaming quiet dreams, the same dreams it had dreamed through the decades, a danger was fast approaching. The life coursing throughout continued on unaware of the changes ahead, of the nightmare around the corner.

Two planes were on the horizon, heading for the watching towers, preparing to stab these two sentinels where they stood.

As the planes hit, fire exploded tearing through steel and concrete and flesh and blood, and in that moment the pattern changed forever. Panic screamed through the people and terror was born. The quiet dream became a nightmare and the nightmare burst through into the day.

At that moment the giant awoke to piercing pain and to the screaming of the people and to their soaking tears. It awoke to those running away and those rushing in. As in all times of testing heroes were born, and made, and died, and lived. Within the sentinels, the fire weakened their core, and they wilted and fell. As the towers collapsed, the giant could have died with them, but the hearts awakened within that city sustained the heart of the giant. The giant thrummed with the pain of its people. Deep pain penetrated every heart, and that burning pain as well as the scorching fire in the buildings seared the heart of the giant and sealed its gaping wounds. The heart was on fire, no longer cold, burning with the pain of its injury, with the pain of its people, and with their determination and hope.

Within the giant, the scar remains. The pain has receded but is not forgotten. The city honors its heroes. And where the towers stood is a scarred hole in the heart of the city and the ghost of the sentinels still stand guard. Even as the rhythm returns to normal and the pattern of life resumes, the giant remembers and sleeps no more.


For good writing, consider visiting www. 9-11heroes.us/911-memorial-poem.php