In the cab, on the way to work...
'The towers are burning, the towers are burning', says
the driver.
I am so tired. I do not know what he means.
What towers?
How could I not know?
I arrived at work,
and...
There was a frenzy all over,
people screaming, rushing
all the televisions in the dayroom were on,
with all eyes transfixed to the screens.
The towers were burning, indeed.
Flames engulfing the buildings.
I saw the image of the plane, full of innocent passengers,
crashing
into the towers,
depositing people and debris
all over.
People were running to escape from
this massive edifice.
Running, running, screaming, yelling, racing
to escape.
The smoke speed itself all over the urban streets
making them look like a warzone.
Vietnam had arrived to lower Manhattan.
I hoped everybody would escape this devastating horror.
Weeks later,
I would hear and see, stories
and more stories
of victims, and
more victims,
of the many who did not escape.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This was such a devastating moment in history. Will never forget it. Penned with vivid emotion...many who did not escape..God Bless; D