|One of the unfortunately well-known images from 9-11, full cite below, public domain claimed.|
Fourteen years ago this morning, our world changed. I might write some more on it later. For now, here are some thoughts expressed in a poem. If you're reading this blog, please, in your own way, take a moment to remember those who died that terrible day. A terrible day against a backdrop of a gorgeous weather day.
A Tuesday Morning by Jeno Berta
It was a Tuesday morning, sunny and bright.
On the edge of summer’s farewell, warm, yet not brutal hot.
Blue skies, blue as water from a still lake.
Then came the planes.
First one, then three more.
Into the ground.
Into our souls.
They broke metal.
And our hearts.
On that Tuesday, that wonderful weather day,
Our “normal” ended.
Yet from that horror, heroes emerged.
Simple acts, yet acts that mattered.
Water shared to quench parched mouths.
Running shoes given away by a shop-keeper.
Given to commuters turned refugees for a day.
Shoes that did more than aid sore feet.
They gave strengthen to the effort of all of us,
To get up, to walk on, to go home.
Yet not all made it home that day.
Some perished in the towers,
Plunging to the ground,
A final act of defiance against the flames.
Others at the Pentagon.
Some in suits, some in uniform, sibling citizens all.
And then there were those who fought back.
Whose rallying cry of, “Let’s Roll” became our own.
On that Tuesday, fourteen years ago, we recall.
We recall our shock,
Yes, our fear.
Yet let’s also recall how we came together,
In our houses of worship,
Schools and sports fields.
In our neighborhoods,
And our homes.
Recall how an act meant to tear us apart,
Pulled us together.
We learned much from that day,
With lessons still to study.
But for now, for today, for this day,
Let our thoughts be to the souls of the fallen.
Of spouses still alone,
Of children now grown,
Of parents for whom time stopped in their hearts,
Time never to move forward again.
I hope the sun shines today, this morning.
As it did that Tuesday morning.
For I believe that one can still recall a loss,
Revere the fallen,
Resolve to honor them in a life lived a bit better,
And still be grateful for the beauty of the day.
A day that like the 728 Tuesdays since that day,
That was the last “normal” Tuesday morning…
I shall ever know.
Photo credit: http://search.aol.com/aol/imageDetails?s_it=imageDetails&q=public+domain+images+9%2F11&s_chn=prt_main5&v_t=comsearch&b=image%3Fs_it%3Dtopsearchbox.search%26s_chn%3Dprt_main5%26v_t%3Dcomsearch%26q%3Dpublic%2Bdomain%2Bimages%2B9%252F11%26oreq%3D2090306d987e4990b5b3439b15cfac93&img=http%3A%2F%2Fi.livescience.com%2Fimages%2Fi%2F000%2F019%2F865%2Fi02%2Fwtc-9-11-small.jpg%3F1315770555&host=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.livescience.com%2F16001-nostradamus-predict-9-11-world-trade-center.html&width=108&height=85&thumbUrl=https%3A%2F%2Fencrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com%2Fimages%3Fq%3Dtbn%3AANd9GcQ_YmYoytAxKuHJe-y2uSxIBcf7-GkxMegE_VCeRIjKZAg-LFkSJnaW0vI&imgWidth=300&imgHeight=235&imgSize=71170&imgTitle=public+domain+images+9%2F11