Hands clinging to the chain link fence. I survey the damage of my world gone astray. The scene is so bleak. I almost trick my eyes into believing there is no color in this place, only the black and the white the constant battle between good and bad. A single cross stands erect; a representative of the once proud being that stood tall. Now only ashes. I am taken back to that horrible day. I watched in horror as my view of the world came tumbling down with that second tower. I was young and didn't understand the meaning. Why would someone do this. All the memories of that fateful day poured into as a stared at its remains. The mist drifted around the city creating a solemn mood.
3 comments:
There are a few typos that I notice after posting this.
I can relate to the sense of shock and loss that you capture here. I like the simple emotional honesty of your childhood perspective on the scene of devastation. How old were you? Where were you? Let the adult you help the little you tell the story. Help her with the details. Did you see the exhibit in the HBLL? Could your adult voice lead the child to process the memory of 9/11 through details of the interactive exhibit?
I like the childlike perspective. I can picture you clinging to the chainlink fence wondering what happened and why. Consider expanding it to talk about your childhood experience and your adult thoughts about the experience.
Post a Comment