Sunday, September 11, 2011

Ten Years Ago

I was working downtown. Both before and after the WTC collaspes. Close enough, that I frequently walked to the subway station (E termimal) in the WTC. It was a longer walk than the closest station, but a faster express train.

In the long dark months after the collapse, I wrote this. The “pit” as it was called, burned not for days, but for months. Till the beginning of December—and everyday, there was smoke and dust, and the smell.

--One word has been editted—at first the totals were thought to be higher, and five (thousand) has been corrected to 3 (thousand).


Memorial

I am nothing more than star dust.
Long, I held myself to be,
Just, collected, the scattered dust,
from some past eternity

How random --how beautiful
Majesty, in such a simple form
humbled and at the same time, blessed,
From such stuff to be born.

But these days the dust I breathe
The dust I have become,
Is the dust of three thousand souls
And more, in me, as one

My city is a charnel house.
It sears me to the core
Now I am the dust of human souls
Of stardust, I am no more.

5 comments:

JelliDonut said...

That's beautiful Helen.

FugueStateKnits said...

Beautiful!

yooperchic said...

Well said

plnc said...

How beautifully sad.

P. Joan Gavigan said...

Still beautiful:)