Tuesday, September 11, 2012

To remember... (SoLS)

This morning reminded me of one morning...
exactly eleven years ago...
Cool, crisp, and bright; the promise of fall
and the excitement of a new school year swirled around me.
As the sun shone through its cornflower blue backdrop today,
I stumbled wistfully upon a thought; a thought I couldn't reconcile
in the stillness of my routine commute:

No child in my elementary was born yet on September 11, 2001.
Not one.
And, this, this is the first year I can say that.

They won't remember a teacher's expression that day
when hearing the hushed news
for the first time
while still knee-deep in morning routines.

Two planes.  No; three.  No; four.
How many more?
Into buildings?
What's going on?

They won't remember the disbelief
we felt in our hearts
and wore on our faces that day
when our deepest thoughts
diverted from planned lessons
to blurbs of news coverage we could get
from colleagues passing by.

They're going to fall.  They're going to fall...
People have to be left inside those buildings.
What about them?

They won't remember the quietness,
the deafening quietness, that day
When no planes flew
through the once menacing sky
now sleeping like a baby.

A field in Pennsylvania? 
The passengers overtook the flight?
To keep us safe? 
The courage.
What would I have done?

They won't remember how it felt that day
to go home uncertain of the future
Scared to be alone,
Wondering if we'd wake up September 12
Heading to one of the many impromptu church services
brought a comforting mix of solace and community.

Will our town be next?
Will I know something big is about to happen before it does?
Will I be able to say, "I love you..." one last time?

Today, I remember how it felt
as a young kindergarten teacher,
to fight the inner battle of 
being honest while being protective
of those 20 little souls,
too innocent to understand
the gravity,
the terror,
the new world they would know
from this point forward.
A world, to which we adults,
were late arrivals.

Could I answer their questions?
How much news coverage their parents allow?
Could I calm their fears when they were the sum of my own?

This morning reminded me of one morning...
exactly eleven years ago...
Cool, crisp, and bright; the promise of fall
and the excitement of a new school year swirled around me.
As the sun shone through its cornflower blue backdrop today,
I stumbled upon a second thought:
Dear Lord, let these children know peace...
not the splintered version we've recreated the past decade,
but rather the truest type --
the type we knew
before the planes,
before the buildings,
before the field
before the fear.

Amen.
b

4 comments:

  1. B-

    Your poem is beautiful, touching, sad, and hopeful all at once. I have no idea how long it took you to craft it, but I wouldn't change a single word. The way you bookended the poem:
    "Cool, crisp, and bright; the promise of fall
    and the excitement of a new school year swirled around me.
    As the sun shone through its cornflower blue backdrop today,"
    was exquisite.
    Thank you for sharing your reflections of then and now with us today.
    And, most of all, thanks for protecting those 20 precious souls who were in your care on that tragic September morning 11 years ago.
    My best,
    Stacey

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  2. You have done it - you have crafted a beautiful piece of writing that stands on its own and yet also captures the thoughts and feelings of all of us who were there. Thank you for the contrast of the day filled with hope and the events filled with uncertainty. And AMEN to your ending prayer.

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  3. How did you reach in my brain and write your poem? You seemed to have expressed in these perfect words what I was feeling yesterday. Although I teach high school students, they were between 2 and 4 years old. They really don't remember anything. Not like I do.

    And the prayer at the end--should be said every day.

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  4. I love those final thoughts especially, B. I was with my middle schoolers that day, so it was one long conversation, listening to a radio, trying to understand what was real & what was not. Parents joined us & helped too. I think it was hard, but even harder for those of you who had the young ones, not knowing what to say & how much. And now, as you said, few of the students remember. It has moved into their histories, to hear from those who were old enough to remember. Thank you for putting what we all feel into such beautiful words.

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Hi! I'd love to hear what you are thinking right now, so please take a sec and drop me a line. I'm so glad you stopped by today -- thanks a billion. :)