A Prayer and a Candle

[Michele 1]

I wake up this morning to the telephone ringing. Answering it, I hear that my mother is missing, New York has been bombed. I walk, trembling to the television, and turn it on. I stand here, sleep touseled and sticky eyed, remote in hand, mouth agape. There is nothing I can say. I hang up, and speed dial my mother's phone. There is no answer, and no answering machine. I can't get through - "all circuits are busy". Over and over. My heart pounds, and my hands are trembling. I turn back to my window on the world, the people screaming, running. Men in suits, women in stylish dresses and shoeless, run from terror, from death. Making their escape, chasing their life down through the streets of Manhattan. I see the destruction, see the panic and terror, I hear the news. I try to be logical, Mom lives in New Jersey, she's got to be o.k., but I know she had planned to go into the city today, and to be there at 8 for breakfast with a friend.
My world is burning.
I sit, solid and secure in my home, sipping coffee, knowing how ridiculous it it that I have a cup of coffee, but needing it desperately. Gradually I hear the sounds of my city decreasing, traffic becoming less when it should be increasing - it is rush hour; there is no rush today. I live near an airport, and I hear no airplanes. I stare dumbly at the telephone in my hand. I hit redial, hoping, praying, that there will be a circuit, and that I will be fortunate enough to get it. Hoping that I can find my mother, 3500 miles away. Hoping that I can reach out and prevent some tragedy touching me. And then I understand the tragedy is touching me anyway. And that it has placed it's stranglehold on many, many people today. And will not let up. It is here.
I silently cry, tears drip off my cheeks.
I watch, over and over, the jet fly into the side of one of the most magnificent structures in our country. The fire blooms, fierce orange-red-white and my soul shrieks soundlessly. The smoke billows into the cloudless glorious blue of the late summer sky, staining it, marring it, creeping toward the summer sun like a cancer. I cannot believe and yet I must, because it is on every channel, overwhelming me. The same picture, the same explosion, glass sparkling amidst the flames, flying through the air, speckling the serene sky with horror. Death is flying, death has taken wing over the city.
I say a prayer: please, God, please.
I reach my mother. She is fine, and had missed her bus, so called the breakfast off. Her friend is fine, as well. I am relieved, and more than a little guilty. My mother is still here to talk to, and how many daughters are missing their mothers now? How many fathers? How many sons, daughters, friends, are missing loved ones, cherished ones, soulmates, children?
My heart breaks.
I watch, not understanding, frightened. The loss of our innocence, the loss of our perceived safety, the loss of our people in the tens of thousands. The people who survive walk the streets, ash-covered, bloody, hurt. A man in what once was a dark blue suit and now it's grey, soot covered, is still carrying his breifcase, clinging to whatever order, whatever normalcy he can find in this whirling reality. And they are the lucky ones. They walk through the mud of the ash, water; broken lives represented by papers, scattering in the fire-breeze. The collapse of the buildings, debris filling the air, covering all things. I see a bird take flight, and I think "good! One has escaped". Clouds of building debris, tossed about like styrofoam, blackened, charred, plumes of smoke channelling through the city streets in a flood of death, obscuring everything, killing everything, snuffing the sun's rays, making it's own wind. I watch, desperate. Helpless. Alone. I watch a beautiful, unremarkable day explode into daytime night, monochromatic, surrealistic. I look at the place on the skyline, an empty void where there was once magnificent buildings. It is like a smile with missing teeth, gaping holes in the day. The final picture is one of bent, melted rebar, twisting grotesquely, at odds with the world.
I light a candle, I try to push back the darkness.
And then, I see it. On the t.v.. At sunset. In the corner of the shot, I see it. A thing, flapping. A thing with the only color my eyes can see. Torn and tattered, charred and smoking, I see a flag, our flag, still raised on a twisted and bent flagpole. The evening breeze begins to pick up, and the flag, it begins to wave. Stirring gently in the ending of this day, it reminds me that there is still love, still hope, still life to be lived.
My prayers go out to everyone involved in this tragedy.
"What of the dreams that never die? Turn to your left at the end of the sky".
~e e cummings~

[skyhawk 2]

and more than a little guilty
why its human nature to worry about friends and family and "hope" that it is someone else it is easier to deal with it if it is an unknown face. We all know that you would never wish it on anyone.You shouldnt feel guilty

[Viking 0]

I am in tears.
Michele thank you for having the courage to write that. That must have been hard.
I swear you must have footprints on the back of your helmet - chicagoskydiver

[SkyDekker 1,465]

WOW
I had been soooo good so far......
[as I reach for a kleenex] Thank you Michele, what a wonderful story. I am very happy for you that you have not lost a loved one.
SkyDekker

[Tee 0]

My heart goes out to everyone in the US. Even here in Canada we are experiencing a feeling of complete devastation. What has happened to you, our neighbors and friends, is unimagineable. Our thoughts and prayers are with you. *Hugz*
Tee

[nimbus 0]

Michele,
I'm so glad to hear your mum is okay.
There must be many people wondering about friends or family. Strength to you all.
Larissa

[Michele 1]

Thanks, guys. This has been a horrendous thing which has happened.
Please be gentle with each other for a while. We are all wounded, we are all hurting, we all share in the loss.
We will all share in the future, as well. And that future - well, none of us knows what it will bring. I know I will need my friends here on these boards. It is not a matter of cliques, nor a matter of opinions. We will need each other's support in the coming times, and I will be the first to support you, rather than tear you down.
We must build each other up, create a place where it is safe to say "I am afraid", "I am hurt", without worrying someone will take you apart for doing so.
I AM afraid. I AM hurt.
Please let that place be these boards. I need your support, and I want to support you. We are all affected by what has happened, American or not, popular or not, truthful or not. Whatever or not. We are all affected. Each one of us. Even those who say they're not.
Blue skies, now, tomorrow, and forever -
Michele
"What of the dreams that never die? Turn to your left at the end of the sky".
~e e cummings~