Our hearts cleaved that horrific day.
The early morning sun shined bright.
No clues were noticed-giveaways
that could forewarn the urbanites.
It began like any Tuesday.
A workday for most New Yorkers.
People bustling to the subways
on their way to their employers.
Still early, not all arrived where
their designated work stations
are situated. Poor souls! unaware
of their imminent destruction.
Suddenly, at eight forty two
A living bomb with mal-vigor
Intentionally, in plain view
Crashed through the north twin tower.
All screaming, jumping casualties,
Burning, smoking, funeral pyre.
When suddenly at nine O three
a second struck the south tower.
Both monoliths are now aflame.
Confusion reined both high and low.
Towering infernos became
A cataclysmic horrid show.
Meanwhile, firemen tried in vain
To rescue those inside the traps,
Doomed victims of the deadly planes.
My God! The south tower collapsed!
All the humanity within
The conflagration expired
In an instant: Men and women
Buried under concrete and fire.
Standing alone and mortally
Wounded, amidst ash and rubble
Like a saint at the stake, bravely
Awaits the inescapable.
“Commit their bodies to the ground;
Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.” An instant grave mound:
The north tower collapses.
Never! Will our lives be the same.
Witnessing the loss of our brethren:
Over twenty nine hundred claimed
That day: September eleven.
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Comments about this poem (911 by Albert Ahearn )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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