Not a cloud in the sky

But a care in the world

Oh, yes,
I remember
the moment I heard the news
The relentless replay of the images
And the deep blue of the sky
The disbelief
The dust
The fear
The diaspora on the bridges
How everything changed
How much I longed for peace.

I remember dinner that night.

PreciousGrrrl daughter
growled with fury and
wanted to fight with someone,
to enlist in something.

RockStar son
had been reading essays
by writers from around 
the world about his
country 'tis of thee
And he tried to piece
together an understanding

At his request, we turned off the television.

And just days before
I had finished reading
Barbara Kingsolver's novel,
the Poisonwood Bible,
and I felt something big

 and amiss. Still do. 

So unreal
so hard to fathom.

Until tonight,
when I read this
while commemorative fireworks
boomed in the distance.

It felt personal.

And I need to see something
beautiful when I look
at the blue sky on this morning.


Please have a look at Chef Kar's deft handling of today's remembrance in 55 words, part of a theme on Fridays hosted by G-man, whose own post of 55 words deserves is a must-read, too.


I send you peace.


Image by lassi.kurkijarvi


Sande said…
I accept your sent peace and applaud your 55 words :)
Pyzahn said…
Quite powerful. How much we want to forget but never will be able to, nor should we.
Chef Kar said…

Beautiful piece of work from you. I am so honored to have offered up some hope in the wake of the horrible memories of that fateful day.

I, like you and so many others, will never forget where I was or what I was doing. I was in my Kaua'i home, thousands of miles from the mainland and sound asleep when most others heard the news. It was my father that somberly told me to turn on the news, that he couldn't even put to words the images he was seeing.

Our little piece of paradise became eerily quiet ~ typically helicopters buzz above the beaches carrying anxious tourists along our gorgeous coastline. The only noises we heard were those of special forces patrolling our isolated islands.

We were delayed in returning to Colorado [our primary home] as homeland security did not allow our tiny airport access due to a rule of parking within a certain distance from the terminal. We were the second to last airport cleared in the US.

In the ensuing months and years I've read so many touching stories of those that were lost. I have since happened upon some whose daily inconveniences kept them from where they would have/should have been on that day. They were the ones I wished to pay tribute to yesterday. The "lucky" ones ~ so many who are still recovering from "survivor guilt" ~ a real and painful reality.

Again, thank you for your nod. It truly is an honor.

With kind regards and hugs,

Chef Kar
Arresting memories articulated beautifully. (Enjoyed the 55 words of Chef Kar too)

Everything changed on that day - one of the good things to come out of it is that we will always be able to connect with anyone about what they felt, where they were when it happened.

Thanks for visiting my blog. I'm happy to have discovered your 3 blogs!
Renie Burghardt said…
Beautiful, Kathleen!

I wanted to write more about that terrible day, but decided not to. I said prayers and shed tears, instead. Do you think we'll ever have peace in the world?
Derrick said…
Hi Kathleen,

Rather more than 55 words but all of them beautifully put. I appreciated reading the two other pieces as well.
steven said…
hi kathleen, i read yours, chef kar, and the g-man's words. the skies were silent here. the shock that went through my school was only slightly less than the disbelief. my students are still baflled by it all. because it revealed something much much deeper than even the horrible event itself could. have a peaceful day. steven
Alix said…
Some people begrudge us our memorials. They are tired of the morbid anniversaries. But as long as I can read poetry like that and see white geese fly in tribute against a deep blue sky, I will bow my head with you.

Thank you. That was extraordinary.
Natalie said…
What a beautiful poem, Kathleen. I always wonder how many people toss and turn on September 10, wondering what they were doing the night before so much changed.

I posted this poem on my blog a while back, and I find it so powerful:
Rudee said…
A very poignant piece, Kathleen. Thank you.
Intuitive Girl said…
I worked at USA Today at the time and from our building we had a perfect view of the Pentagon. Some of us saw the plane crash into the Pentagon (I feel grateful that my desk wasn't facing in that direction so I didn't see the impact, only the fireball.)

To this day, whenever there's a day in which there's not a cloud in the sky I think of that morning.

Thanks for this poem.

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