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Nine Eleven

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A voice came over the loudspeaker.
“Attention students,” it announced,
“we have just been informed…

Two planes
Have been flown into

The World Trade Center.”
The room fell silent.
My classmates and I looked at each other

Confused.
What was the World Trade Center?

What was going on? Neither of us knew.
My teacher cleared her throat,

And we continued on with class.
The day ended.

Mom picked me up, as usual

But with tears in her eyes.
I wanted to play with a friend that day.
My momma said today wasn’t a day for playing.

I didn’t understand.

We arrived home, and turned on the television.
The sight of smoke, dust, and fire
burned in my eyes.
Mom cried, so I did too.
Sobbing families, beat-up firemen, brave police officers.
Telling their story of loss or heroism.
I didn’t know what to think, so I colored

While Mom made some calls.
It was only until years later, did I realize
The significance, the terror.

I came across a program, on TV
The glow of the screen lit up
my horror-stricken face.
People; crying, screaming… jumping…

Dying.
My heart began to ache, my eyes began to sting.
I felt a twisting pain in my chest,

The realization of what had really happened.
The realization there was nothing I could do

To bring these people back.
Wiping a tear from my cheek, I closed my eyes

And said a prayer.





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