9/11 Attack, 2001, by Catherine Munro

From MemoryArchive

Who: Catherine Munro
What: 9/11 Attack
When: September 11, 2001
Where: Los Angeles, California

My husband, who was up early for work, always read the headlines through the news service on his pager. This morning he woke me saying "Something terrible has happened in New York." At that point only one plane had struck.

We went to the television, but because we couldn't afford cable TV, and the local PBS station was maintaining children's programming, the only news station we could get clearly was a Spanish language channel. We turned the sound down, and turned on KNX news radio, and the disjoint between pictures and words made the morning that much more surreal. I think we saw the second plane strike the second tower live, but we thought at first it was just another replay of the first tower -- it was only as the radio announcers began to catch up that we realized the true horror of what we had seen. It got even worse when the towers came down, and my mind kept flipping back and forth: first, the distant oddity of watching a building fall down, and realizing it wasn't a model, or a film of something that happened years ago; and second, a visceral image of the smoke and the flames and the fear and then crushing pain and death inside the building. I didn't cry. I couldn't cry.

My son, just over a year old, woke up a little later, and we turned the TV off for a while; then my neighbor invited us over to watch her television and her older daughter supervised our younger kids in the bedroom while we watched the same images over and over again, and tried blankly to guess what else might be coming our way. The news about the Pentagon increased both our horror and our detachment, as it seemed inevitable that there would be more to come. The hours went by with no new attacks, and I began to feel relief and apprehension about "letting my guard down".

I didn't know anyone who was directly affected, but everyone I knew was stunned and hushed about what had happened. Very few people I knew went to work that day.

I remember feeling guiltily glad that my son was so small -- I didn't have to try to explain what had happened to him. I wrote this poem in 2003, after watching him play with a toy airplane in the sunshine. He's six now, and he still doesn't know about 9/11. I know we'll discuss it sooner or later, when the subject becomes important, but for now I can't bear to explain how evil human beings can be to each other.

One Schoolyard, Every Schoolyard

Child of vigor, joy and fight
In the schoolyard loud and bright
Feel the sunshine and your strength --
One with the morning light.

Child of vigor, growth and gain
All life running through your veins
Feel potential shining bright --
Tall as the waving grain.

Child of terror, stunned and small
Watch the glassy towers fall
Feel the earth groan, wracked with pain --
Sun in a dusty pall.

Child of silence, dust, debris
Wishing to give back the key
Not yet ready to see this wall --
Sudden eternity.

--Catherine Munro