Today being the anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks here in New York and other parts of the United States, I thought I would share the poem that I wrote immediately after the events of that day. Oddly enough, I was not in NYC that morning and in fact, I was on vacation driving back from Maine, and had stayed with a friend in Boston the night before. I was all set to drive back to NYC that morning, when I heard the news on the car radio.

Needless to say, I did not go to NYC that day. Instead I drove back to Portland to get some TLC from my friend Manny, whom I had only just met earlier on that trip.

                 The Leap
 
The collapse leaves me numb.
I cannot make contact with my friends,
My family, and now, with my feelings.
 
Images of zombies roaming aimlessly --
I cannot begin to imagine the carnage.
I cannot imagine the chaos.
 
I cannot imagine the loss,
Nor the mess that my hometown is now.
I am completely disconnected.
  
     Life has changed.
     I do not know how it has changed
     I do not know how it has changed me.
  
Images of bodies flailing downward,
I begin to imagine the thoughts that go through your mind
When facing the sudden awareness of your pending death.
 
How each day I awake, I take for granted the dawn,
The smiling sun shining, blinding me to possibilities
I refuse to acknowledge.
 
And now our bodies hang in the air,
Fingertips clutching at the window’s ledge,
Desperate for another chance.
  
     I feel nothing but regret.
     I cannot even cry.
     I do both.
   
Images of celebration in the streets
By those who detest what we
Have come to represent
 
I cannot imagine watching the destruction
And revel in the glory of this spectacle --
Condoning this act of retribution.
 
Yet, on some macabre level, I too, stare in admiration.
Reminded of my own ghoulish fantasies,
Stemming from my anger over what we have become.
 
      Life has changed.
      I don’t know how it has changed.
      I fear how it has changed me
  
Now is a time that truly tests my tenuous faith.
For it’s difficult to find wisdom buried ‘neath seven stories of solid steel,
And to trust enough to take that fabled leap.
 
But like those destined souls on the top floor,
I feel the burning torture of helplessness on one side of the precipice,
And our cherished free fall to freedom on the other.
 
So, I close my eyes.  I take a deep breath.
Time stands still as I start to pray
That I will wake to a brand new day
  
     I had meant to feel what it is to love
     And wished to know what it’s like to fly
     I do both.
 
 
 
Jeffrey Lloyd Michels
copyright September 2001

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