At the beginning of October, I had opportunity to go and assist with the volunteer operations that were at ground Zero. The photos and words are my attempt to express the sites, sounds and images of that surreal place.
A
place of incredible destruction. Where the smoke continues to rise as the
ground is hot from the destruction of that morning. It is a place of
exhaustion and where people are working and searching for some trace and remain
of a friend, comrade or family member.
It's also a place of comradely support, where strangers become friends as
they share the common experience of helping others.
The people I met, Russell, Willie, John, Johnny, Steven, Reno, Joe, Liz, Larry, Adam, Kay we shared something never to be forgotten. Ever.
10-10-01
to one month
of pain, the hurt of trying
to find a friend
there is a pause
to think,
Oh God, let there be the strength to lift this shovel
one more time
amid noise dust the fast
moving of destroyed building hearses
a small bird hops near
and I throw a piece of crust
near it.
Just for now
let
me have a few moments
to fold my hands
and lower my head
to close my eyes
for
just a moment
Before
I start to dig
and search through the debris
to find either stranger or friend
somebody
I know is still out there
I
know I must keep up the search
but
just for now
WE
THE PEOPLE
of THESE
UNITED HEARTS
pour out as One
to you brave country
swells of vast
untapped compassion
pour as torrents
of Humanity
WE come
in your defense
and self defense
and in defense
of the family of Man
We come to uncrush
a marrow scaring sorrow
that shock rained down
as molten lead upon
your unsuspecting cities
where willing
and open wounded
WE HUMANITY
work the after ash
and consecrate
the smoldering rubble
as if our digging hands
and prayers and vigilance
and ten million
tiny candle flames
could light the world
to bring One healing
indivisible
in the wake of God
where there are no words
that the devastation
of a nation
might be released
like doves
freed
from the throbbing dark
of every anguished heart
that yearns to know
no earthly borders
no dividing seas
no blindness
in this NATION
of UNITED HEARTS
We stand
at the killing grounds
drawn to mend
each other's
ravaged dreams
come to raise
Freedom's flag here
come to rectify
the final desperation
of those lost
lives flashed to oblivion
while a world in horror
watched
the sudden bombs
stop time
WE HUMANITY
DEMAND
against a crime
unspeakable
demand to know
what twisted breed
of blackened heartÂ
so weak so terrified
could be
so artificially deranged
by drug and installed lies
so manufactured
so spiritually gone
that it could artfully
command good minds
to kill and die
to feed a barbarism
of sheer criminal intent
with unholy acts
in the unhallowed name
of a false still smiling evil
for the godforsaken sake
of some ungodly glory
And on the tongues
of everyone
and on the tips of minds
and every where
the question
What is true
for those of loyal heart
who are about to die?
For in loving resignation
these answered
without fanfare
“I love you very much
I didn't mean to hurt
We're doing all we can
We will be alright?
to reassure the living
that somehow we
despite all reasons not
despite the total madness
of an unwelcome house
that hate built here
WE could still sing
the gospel
of determination
to seek and find
and shine the Truth
and thus restore
a strengthening
a sense of good security
where decency prevails
for all good people
of the neighborhoods
and for our leaders
That we might
in our greatest voice
repledge a reverence
for the eternal spirit
of each
in his own
uniqueness
and pledge
to sing the gospel
of Peace and Tolerance
for
WE
THE PEOPLE
of THESE
UNITED HEARTS
are FREE to sing
and free to love
and free to heal
and yes under God
and yes indivisible
and yes One voice
bringing justice
and yes One heart
and our flag IS still there
and liberty lives forever
21 September 2001
Copyright ©2001 Jan Houston
All Rights Reserved
A woman asked, “How important can those twin buildings be?”
Just
how stupid
can one person be? First think how
many people died in those twin
buildings.
Second they were the New York skyline, Third they
were on American
soil, and
that means they were American not to be destroyed
by any one, For in
destroying them it should have touched all
Americans. We fought to
keep all
Americans and our country free
from this kind of people.
NOW the pentagon,
We also fought to keep it free for it is the
hub of
our lives, and a very important building in our
defense system. It was
also
rammed by an aircraft flown by a terrorist. On
that day, 9/11/001,
there
were four hijacked air craft
.. Two hit the WTC TWIN TOWERS one RAMMED INTO
THE PENTAGON. Altogether
there were 266 people on board those aircraft,
Men, Women, and
Children.
The fourth plane
went down in Pennsylvania with some heroes on
board.
They knew all was lost, so they decided not to
let the plane reach its
target what ever it was and attacked the hijackers.
They knew they were
going down American Heroes they are
This country was
founded on in “GOD” we trust. Now is the time
for
this country to turn back to what our founding
fathers believed in.
Trust in
“GOD” and his word.
We are in
deep trouble by getting so far away from him. So,
America,
you have a choice, either turn back to “GOD or
GO UNDER”.
It is time to put our
trust in “GOD,” To work and back our
President
and pray for our country and its leaders. When
we have turned our
country
back to “GOD” then we all can sing and shout.
“GOD BLESS AMERICA.”
So
stand up and fight back America and all other freedom
loving nations.
SURVIVORS
Thousands of miles away, a city’s slammed
to a standstill under falls of confetti:
ash and fragments of first drafts, bills
and calendars, photo of someone’s bride
or daughter, two tattered squares from
the Sunday crossword: who will solve this
puzzle?
9-11 is the moment of panic.
And then we begin to move
through streets blocked by rubble,
the ruins smoldering, flaring up
and coming down ash. A worker wears
his name on his wrist, his name
in case he’s buried.
I’ve been there, so many thousands
of miles away, so many thousand
people died.
Tonight, so far away, fireflies blink on
and off across the pond. The cat curls
in the nook of my knee. Who of us
is safe?
And who indeed in this garden?
We call them gophers
who ate the roots of highrise;
who pulled the whole plant down
and ate them, every man and woman
on the vine;
every man and woman misshapenly
drawn-and-quartered black/white,
sullen/gay, he she they those others
thousands of miles away and here.
9-11 is the number to call
and now we begin to move.
Taylor Graham
piper@innercite.com
Petty Fingers
My fingers feel petty today
tapping under a sky of blue chalk.
Somewhere else, across
a stately mountain range,
body bags are catching limbs
and a Brooks Brothers Store
is doubling for a morgue.
Rubble is a hailstorm
that violates the autumn flesh.
Inconceivable and firm,
set fast on sorrow's acreage.
I check the Dow and
hate the shape of dollar bills,
my shiny dimes of selfishness.
All who shed their dreams for ours,
plummeted to granite slabs,
perished in atrocity
will be remembered in their graves.
Wreaths of jasmine line the streets.
"Why the risk?" reporters ask a fireman
who came so close to losing limbs,
drug a flock of slaughtered lambs
to cherished urns on mantles
of un-chosen grief.
I listen for the hummingbirds
of steel planes and zipping swords
of our defense that circle in the quiet air.
All the dead are Aslans on the altar block.
Its pale marble never pure,
aching to unload a wound.
Justice brews like chicken stock --
strips mittens from a mountain lion.
Men will stand in breadlines
of a just revenge, become
the crumbs of sacrifice.
Freedom's cello tightens strings.
Some orchestras must play their scores
with cross bows of our skeletons.
These heroes are our tourniquets.
by Janet I. Buck
***First Published in _Thunder Sandwich_
Page ONE
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at the implosion party the banners read
America Under Attack
the FAA banned knives or use of knives
in U.S. airports
we'll have porridge no sharp things
for us
meow the cat says
purr
____________________________
Christopher Mulrooney
150 N. Catalina St., No. 2
Los Angeles, Calif. 90004
lospoesy@earthlink.net
http://mulrooney.portland.co.uk/fireman.html
"ANGELS WITHOUT WINGS: THE RESCUERS"
I do not know you
or why you do what you do.
But I would like to thank you
for all of those people
that you rescued from disaster.
I pray that I never need
your services.
But I thank The Lord
that you were there.
Copyright © 2001 T. J. Daniels
"TEARS IN THEIR SHADOWS"
They are no longer
but their spirit lives on.
They used to cast
twin shadows.
Now
only the shadows remain.
Copyright © 2001 T. J. Daniels
"WHY SPACE SHIPS DON'T LAND"
There are times that I feel very sad
that I've lived this long.
To see the horrendous atrocities
that man can do to his fellow man.
I can see why space ships do not land
and say
"HERE I AM!"
And some people say that the Holocaust
never happened.
Copyright © 2001 T. J. Daniels
"THE ENEMY WITHIN"
We didn't get lost
in the jungle.
The desert sands
didn't bury us.
We survived
the british invasion.
And we will survive
the enemy within.
Copyright © 2001 T. J. Daniels
"THUNDER UNDERGROUND"
We think there's
safety in numbers
but we forget about
The Thunder.
The Thunder
from underground.
On a pleasant sunny day
just like any other day
the earth exploded
with FIRE!
And as the smoke
rose higher...
We heard the anquish
of the cryers...
And through tear clouded eyes
they asked why...
They asked why.
(It doesn't matter why)
(dead is still dead)
Copyright © 1999 T. J. Daniels
"DEATH IN MANY PLACES"
There'll be death in many places
of many fathers sons and children.
On the hills and in the valleys
in the cities and in the back streets.
There'll be blood on the sidewalks
in the grasslands and the mountains
and the peaceful countryside.
There'll be brother fighting brother
fathers fighting their own sons.
Blood will be all over
'til the fighting is all done.
Copyright © 1998 T. J. Daniels
--
"CLICK BELOW" "POETRY" by: T. J. Daniels
http://www.poetry-tjdaniels.com
ALTERNATE LOCATION BELOW:
http://www.tjdaniels.com
Other Poems, other voices
The Maze Game
--------------------------------
Gracious, you abide
me; I monopolize your time
with rambling words of misdirection
through my twisted, sad insides.
I don't really mean to lead you
always deeper yet away
from the center. This protection
is a reflex-hard to stay.
But, yes, I want you here,
and yet I fear each moment you obey
this charismatic impulse
toward an undeserving fool
you are kind in your inspection, but too close,
and therefore cruel. I am being
quite oblique, but you seek meaning
diligently, in the vaguest things I say.
Understand me: we will get there,
but must we get there today?
Were
------------------------------------------
The night that knew me, beckoning
from in between the trees,
makes the most of my old shadows,
and the voice is on its knees:
"Daughter, Darkness, we remember
you; remember and return,
for we know we have our part in you,
as sure as comets burn!"
I am living in a bolted house
of brick and have a place
at the hearth, where flames of reason
throw their lights across my face.
And the wolves are in the distance,
but for one which cannot sleep.
Still I mustn't meet by moonrise;
I have promises to keep.
All my loves that led me, leavening
my soul with wild unrest,
if you truly love me, let me be.
It would be for the best.
But if you continue howling
in my dreams I cannot say
whether I can bear this skin I'm in
or hold myself at bay.
Death and the Prodigal
-----------------------------------------
It's brownish gold in there; a thousand miles away
I know the room so well that I can see the lighting
and the shadows on the wooden paneled walls. I
hear the mutter
of the huddle in the family room, and feel it:
the clutter of emotions, pulsing through the press
of mourners.
I can almost hear the creak of seams and bending
beams.
That house is ripe to fly apart with feelings;
only something willful holds it still,
and hush falls like the sudden pall
of storm-dread on creation,
keeps the clocks from ticking loudly,
lips from risking more than whispers,
muted vocal cords from doing more
than buzzing deep bass beats
of syncopated sympathy, while the steps
of many shuffling feet seep neatly into carpet
that gives up its secrets grudgingly,
if it ever does at all.
If I call, the host will have to cross
the ocean to the phone and will be navigating blindly,
or perhaps a guest will steer.
But I am not prepared to hear the loss the line
will not disguise,
so my loved ones in the center of that cyclone
are alone,
but only in the sense that I am here.
The Optical Illusion
--------------------------------------
Warped, I measure everything
by personal distortions; would God
that I were perfect as the Author of my heart!
Would God that I saw clearly as the maker of my
eye
who gave it such capacity, designed it with such
art,
yet put within it weakness, at its center point
a spot
of blindness I have learned to live within.
I see a few things sharply, most of all what I
am not
and what I ought to be or could have been.
Perhaps there, in the darkness down the center
of this life,
are hidden keys to all its mystery,
and Wholeness waits for groping hands of faith
to brush the light
that shines so brightly right in front of me.
A trick of physiology, a filling-in, for fear
of emptiness prevents my taking hold
of what could heal the hole in me, that sole provision,
near,
accessible, and reaching, but not quite.
Yet nudging with the force of love, and hinting,
shamelessly, of grace, He makes his presence felt
if not quite known
while, leading with a desperate need, arms out,
into the breach I speed,
hoping only not to be alone.
by Jennifer Merri Parker
It was an experience to look again at the pictures and the poems I wrote while there in New York City. The people I met and the sights seen will not be forgotten, ever. Even now, as I read and see stories, I have the events rush back to my mind.
Next issue is the Annual Christmas one.
Also, January, I'm hoping, will feature an interview of Christine Fellows, who will be releasing her second cd in the new year. You may remember a review I had on her first CD, "2 Little Birds". The second will sound the same and should be great. If you want more information on her, go to http://www.christinefellows.com
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