Long poem by
binibining p.iNk | Details |
Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...
Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...
I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.
Visited him again today, heard mass for him,
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.
I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.
All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?
I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??
I stepped on a lizard. Again
Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.
But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.
I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.
One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.
Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.
This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard.
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.
The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(
I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.
By this time, I am crying, sobbing.
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.
What broke my heart, was to see that lizard.
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides.
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"
I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out,
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
And it was all my fault.
My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.
But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did.
There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.
I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.
I buried them and still feel so sorry.
In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.
I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now,
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?
I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.
I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).
I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.
I just feel so guilty, with this happening.
I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.
I know it's all a part of life...
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.
Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.
It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...
I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.
And we can never be the same.
Long poem by
Verlena S. Walker | Details |
Opening the window for a breeze… Dogs are barking! My mind is only on me. Relaxing… As my story of the day unfolds, someone knocks. Startling me, I hurry to the front door. There stands an image of long-ago. We hug and I let him in. I begin to remember how deeply in love I was with this man. But our destinies had to part and I left with my heart. We talked for hours. No intimacy transpired between us because we knew our lives was not fair to us and therefore, we did not desire any closeness. Just reminiscence of tragedy we had went through for healing purposes on this three-year Anniversary.
What happen? You may ask. This is the tale as is.
His mother desired to be me. So she set out to steal my identity. In darkness she laid in our bed waiting on Ted. A man entered the room and she presumed her man had come home. Voicing that she was there, my stalker shot her three times in the head. The bullets were for me. In irony, she had really stolen my identity. He shot himself as well ending my dilemma.
The police came on the screen afraid that it was me. Ted and I played it off. He had told me his ordeal with his mother as a teenager. He was the star athlete at our high school. His mother was unstable and desired him for her sex tool. She will explain that this would keep them close but he could not tell anyone. His grandmother, on his father side, had filled Ted in on his mother family history of incest. Ted figured he did not want any part of that mess. So he asked his father could he live with him but he also keep in contact with his mother because of his sister and brother. His father said yes to Ted and asked his other kids did they want to live with him as well. It so happen that his sister was close to their mother and his brother was also. So they said no.
Ted graduated from high school as valedictorian of his class and his body was explosive. Ted was fine as he could be. He now could communicate with his mother without her approaching him for sex. He had not told his father of this instead he kept this to himself. Nevertheless, his mother, in secret, still desired her son.
Ted and I started dating in high school. I was familiar with his family through us living in the same metropolitan city; however, not in the same community. We end up going to the same university in the city we lived in and our relationship flourished.
We moved into our apartment while we were in college and his mother use to come over. And now, three years later, we remember the tragedy. Ted cries out to me and I answered. We are bonded by our relationship but not by marriage. He has successfully conquered his demons and mine's disappear on that night of my stalker death.
Ted mother was wealthy and I knew that she only was nice to me because of Ted. The police discovered she had paid my stalker to pursue me as his prey. Ted has been told this as well and he stated that is why his mother is dead in which he says quietly to himself, “This ends this horrid tale.”
[Queasy Queen Beings and they do not know anything of it. Ted is Queasy Queen’s son and he has her powers. He would have acquired his mother’s powers without help, which would have been through incest before forty (40). However, incest did not happen between Ted and his mother, Queasy Queen; therefore, he will acquire her powers at the age of forty (40) via other means. His sister and brother have theirs but did not divulge because there mother had explain theirs to them when she bestowed. Telling Ted’s sister, Harmony, at ten (10) years of age what she was doing as she assisted her in getting dressed. she kissed her neck. Telling Ted’s brother, Destine, at fifteen (15) years of age, when he was leaving why she kissed him. Incest was only for Ted because he was the oldest and her first born. His grandmother on his father side knew nothing of this because she was human and disagreed with incest openly. More so, this was unheard of through entities of the government.]
Long poem by
PENINNAH NGANGA | Details |
five decades of experience and vast global knowledge
he met and lay with all kind of ladies.
Women that sparks extreme desire
Some whose names he couldn't pronounce
Even those with no clue as to why God make a girl...
Never did he image
a simple 25 year old beauty
will be the bait to make him surrender.
His friends and families bet
it will last for as long
as she could satisfy his groin.
Its been fourteen years of bliss in this marriage
two handsome boys and a dog
he finds her irresistible.
This woman his wife
she makes him nervous
she makes him question his manhood.
He is well known and influential
a man of means
proud and egotistic
but the moment she came into his life
the balance of power shifted.
She's in total control.
Stubborn as a mule!
He often find himself inflamed.
She makes him so angry with her arguments.
"Why must she always contend?"
such a strong personality!
"Where in heaven did you come from woman?"
is a frequent line that sends her laughing
knowing she has won again.
He recalls their first year of courtship
they would disagree so much
their social lives...
At times they went for days
without a word.
He dated several women in-between
eventually he gave up.
"There will be women more beautiful than her,
learned and more elite."
But he realized
will ever possess more grace
inner beauty and brains
than his simple town girl from Kenya.
Today they celebrate their anniversary in the Bahamas
he laughs at the number of time she fall
learning to surf.
He would try to talk her out if it
he knows too well she's never been one to quit.
Her determination amaze him.
Once she stayed in the water too long
he went frantic thinking he had lost her
to the vast Ocean.
The thought of losing her scares him
more than the thought of losing
his huge empire
or even his own life.
He flinch as he recalls a painful encounter on his 42nd birthday
that would have seen him lose her.
He hurt her so bad
she wasn't sure she will ever recover.
It was tragic and excruciating to both of them.
But after a month of total anguish and despair
she forgave him.
She fought for them!
"With all she got and still she wanted me!"
It was the first time anyone had purely loved him.
Accepted him with all mistakes and wrong choices.
"It was literary being born again.
more than a second chance.
Its like all along i had been blind
or locked up
and had been granted freedom."
"With all my records and achievements
it was the first time i felt good enough.
I found my purpose!"
She is the only trophy worth mentioning.
This woman his wife
so rich of thrill and delight.
unpredictable and full of adventure.
No wonder his now 27 old daughter adore her so.
She is the life of the party
a puzzle he no longer care to figure out.
You cannot interact with her and remain sane.
She will teach you ways to appreciate life
make each day count.
Often he claims
he wouldn't be here had she left.
Though she's the baby
he gets all the nurture.
"She protects me not just from the world
but from me too."
She has been his guide and guard
with her he can never go wrong.
"She is the lamp sent from above to light my path."
No longer looks over his shoulder
he know she will never hurt nor betray him.
Once after dinner he broke hysterically
"Her cooking is aphrodisiac
Her love making insatiable
Her sense of style unimaginable"
"Her strength immense
her joy is endless
her faith steadfast."
She is the pillar that holds them together.
As a black man once proudly sang
this woman his wife
"She gives me good loving!"
........ ....... ......
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Long poem by
Ruth Sabath Rosenthal | Details |
End-Cut Prime Rib of
Cake, Lobster Tail,
I feel — no — need
to, eat those foods
asked that I get
you. So I scour the
first and foremost,
roast prime rib of
confident that, if I
find that, the
will appear on at
least one of them,
It’s the Post House,
on East 63rd Street,
that has everything.
And, on this day,
the 1st anniversary
of your death, I’m
the foods you
craved, yet, I do
a morsel. But not to
for next year, same
date, I’ll try
and maybe, just
maybe, I’ll find it
to enjoy what you
surely would have,
if only I’d realized
there was no time
No time left, as I
held your hand
and watched American
while you morphed
ever it is one
becomes at death.
Frost, I muse, if
he’d taken the other
road, would he
have moved to
his poetry was a hit
from the get-go;
would he have been a
or teacher, or
newspaper reporter —
not a bard who
crafted the simplest
not a father who
deaths; not a
who couldn’t keep
his wife from
sinking deep into
Every day, since
your death, I think
about what I
could’ve done and
not have done as
your sister, your
How I’d sat on my
laurels and let you
navigate on your
own, with me never
trying to steer away
from conflict with
you. Me, who
found it too hard
in that life of
yours. Truth be
there’d been two
diverging roads for
to choose one, way
back when, neither
the worse for wear,
I would’ve sought
you out — asked you
you’d take if you
were me, and surely
I’d have taken the
I sent you an e-mail
rereading a few from
out of the many
final ones I never
According to AOL,
the one I sent you
Time, was delivered!
It’s been 2 years, 1
month, 7 days, minus
since you died, and
I’m wondering if
my message reached
you? I made it
wanting not to
rehash what we’ve
and written to each
the moment we could.
I don’t hear back
from you, I’ll
you can’t make
yourself be heard,
not to. Although, it
could be, I’m not
well enough — much
the same as when
you’d lived. No
matter, I’ll be
from here on, and
I’ll stay on
lest I miss a single
word or whisper.
P.S. It’s 3 days
later and my e-mail
has been returned as
Returned to Sender -
which prompted me to
look up “daemon”
in the dictionary:
(in ancient Greek)
of “demon” —a
between gods and
humans; an inner or
or inspiring force;
So, thanks to AOL, I
(tend to) believe
you’re out there,
the electronic (or
in a place
universally known as
You, out there,
your death 24/7.
Long poem by
PENINNAH NGANGA | Details |
i remember like its yesterday when we first met.
Second Sunday of the cold July
few days to my parents anniversary.
you said,"Hi am Erick and I would love to know you!"
We exchanged numbers
we shared photos of places we been to
day till the wee hours of the morning
we would talk tirelessly.
there is no stone we didn't turn.
We did not always share same view
but always we agreed to disagree.
You kept saying, "I have found my match!"
We clicked so well!
The connection was undeniable.
Then that weekend you left for fishing in Ireland
we hardly talked
i was so miserable.
I remember thinking,"am falling in love with this man!"
That Sunday when you got a connection in London
the first words you said when were
"I have a feeling there is a big fight awaiting."
Though that was our first fight
it was the day we found our center.
It has been so amazing ever since.
We have had our heavenly moment
Skype can tell you that.
We have had our share of pain too
Whatsapp can testify.
Our major break up on your birthday last year
The down time we both went through
beginning of this year...
our friendship and our love remains a constant force.
Atleast not until lately when all the crude fighting began.
You say i blame you all the time
that am playing hard ball
trying to push you away
that i do not trust you.
But you been the one changing the game.
I understand your life is speeding up
but you forget the results of that on us.
Beyond chasing contracts and making millions
you forgot there is a bride back home
in need of your quality time.
You said you had thought of it hard enough
and it is better that we break up.
I deserve better you said
we are not happy anymore.
Obviously you have a point.
We are not happy as we need to.
I think i idolize you too much that i forget you human
in need of my affection as much as i need yours.
But you also forgot your duty
to silence my insecurities with reassurance and tenderness
like you used to.
Four days and five nights still i wait
that you have not given up on us.
But the silence remains.
En zo mijn lifde (and so my love
ik hou van je (i do love you
ik can romans schrijven over ons (i can write novels about us
ik zal waarschijnlijk een Mills&Boon versie van ons schrijven (I will probably write a Mills&Boon version of us
als dit is waar onze altijd eindigt (if this is where our forever ends
dan will ik dat je weet (then i want you to know
HET IS EEN MOOI LEVEN AAN UR ZIJDE GEWEEST.(IT HAS BEEN A BEAUTIFUL LIFETIME BY YOUR SIDE)
should you decide to change your mind
you can come back anytime
but like yourself
i too will need a few days to figure out things.
when we vowed for better or worse
you should have known that this is one of such ugly times.
You should have never left.
Goodbye my love.
Or is it?
Long poem by
Merv Webster | Details |
Dot Blogs she was a buxom lass and hefty heifer too
who married Bobby Eugene Blows when she was twenty- two.
They lived upon a dairy farm alongside Boggy Creek
and milked a hundred fresian cows … yes seven days a week.
Now Dotty took to motherhood and had some eighteen kids
and Bobby too was very fond of all his billy lids.
Though life was using hand me downs from hats to underwear,
it taught them old world values; like the gift of how to share.
Dot seldom ventured from the place and trips to town were rare
as she’d become content with life and simple country fare.
But Bob, in a romantic mood, applied his boyish charm
and thought he’d hit the city and get Dotty off the farm.
Their anniversary was due and Bob now thought it time
to hit the big smoke for a change were they could wine and dine.
Well Dot had dressed up to the nines and looked a proper treat,
but how to fit her in the ute had poor Rob kind of beat.
Poor Dot was three axe handles when one measured ’cross her rump
and putting things politely she was rather flamin’ plump.
But Dot she was a country girl and just jumped in the back
and soon both her and husband Rob were heading down the track.
The cities razzle dazzle blew both Dot and Rob away
and headed for the classy place where they were gonna stay.
But when Dot hit the doorway well she then ran out of luck,
as she was jammed there tightly and evidently stuck.
The chaps behind the service desk and three bell boys as well
they tried to push poor Dotty free but Robby knew darn well
that Dottie’s hefty hips were simply wedged in there too tight
and going out to wine and dine was now in doubt that night.
Just then a bell boy cried out loud, “I have a plan for sure.
I’ll grab the local rugby team that’s dining right next door.”
The forwards packed behind poor Dot and gave it all they had,
but all they did was stir her up and she was getting mad.
Then Rob remembered once back home how Bert the bull was jammed
real tight inside the race they had and how they fin’lly planned
to rub his hips with lots of grease and on the count of three
they’d hit him with a jigger and you’re right … he busted free.
The Motel staff then whipped around and searched each patron’s bag
and grabbed all sorts of greasy stuff their little hands could snag.
Rob rubbed old Dottie’s hips all down and laid it on real thick,
then grabbed the night guards stun gun; it was sure to do the trick.
Poor Dot she kicked and bellowed when the voltage hit her hide
and man she cut some capers and she went all goggle eyed.
She snorted and she struggled like some poor wild frightened beast,
but just like Bert, Rob did admit, she busted free at least.
Now Dot is back at Boggy Creek and though poor Rob tries hard
she won’t budge from the Dairy farm; she just won’t budge a yard.
Poor Rob now does the shopping and the thing he finds bizarre
Is rubbing Dot down ev’ry night where two prongs left a scar.
©Bush Poet and Balladeer - Merv Webster
Long poem by
MATTHEW harris | Details |
Christened as averred one Harriet Kuritsky on November 13th nineteen thirty five
the youngest of four with only one brother
whose exit from this world from a terminal illness she did not survive!
The following emotions communicating heartfelt grief
practically vanquished as like my existence turned a new leaf!
A recurring abysmal grief stricken state
still consumes my entire being of late
these perpetual tears of sadness seem not to a-bate
since the grim reaper brandished scythe
signature sign of a deadlocked fate!
Twas about 11:00 a.m. 2005 that third of May
that our dearly beloved mother
fought tooth and nail to keep death at bay
(recounted by sisters who elected to remain on vigil that day)
nonetheless rigor mortis upper hand
brought a (supposed) painless and swift death
to her diseased and emaciated riddled body gone lifeless and ashen gray!
This only heir still misses his mom more than plaintive words can spell
with his agonizingly pained heart and soul that rents asunder this psyche pell-mell
no amount of weeping can quiet and quell!
Cathartic for me to give you a posthumous ode
conveyed in an easy to read poetic code
to accept finality & permanent loss only retrievable from nostalgic memories
identified as that childhood home and favorite abode!
Her cremated ashes still remain sealed in the same nondescript box
white, powdery and chalk like material
devoid of any vestigial semblance to her once living and vibrant self
that unique persona pulverized and vaporized
(housed former svelte and tall Arthur Murray ball-room dance teacher
a half century plus prior to demise
which beauty, charm and grace quickly caught the attention of my father
who courted and eventually proposed to this young flirt and tease of a gal)
inert organic matter now represents sole residual embodiment
reduced to dust and near nothingness
former corporeal being of blood, bone and flesh
weighing no more than a dozen hatch marks on the scale
absence still bears down heavy like some millstone round the neck
per the black hole void created by defeat with Grim Reaper
toward this woman who helped birth and nurse me into manhood
momma’s only grown son still feels ripples of grievous sadness
no matter the years of suppressed anger and rage
in addition to emotional conflicts between us
which invariably wrought unpleasant relationship
and a legacy of discord writ large across the tapestry of my life!
Long poem by
madhavi suyog pagare | Details |
The Intensifying love story by
I simply adore you, my Mesmerizing
As you are my first love.
Who lighted my heart with full of pride and
Who ignited the ecstasy towards lovely life.
Who relieved my pains and took sorrows
You made me fall sick in your love when I
see your madness.
I like the way,
The way you gazed at me and my smoky
The way you smiled at my mystifying and
The way you every time praises me.
The way you galvanized me and proved
the meaning of life.
You are the one,
Yes, you are the one who aroused my
feelings, my emotions.
Yes, you are the one who explored my
passion of love, flaming in my charismatic
Yes, you are the lovely treasure which god
had baptized me.
Yes, you are the one who turned the page
of my life.
Eureka, I found my true love!!!!
Bewilderedly I did not know, where is my
love taking me to ??
But still I like the way,
Like, the way you clutched me into your
Like, the way you kissed my palms.
Like, the way you hugged me, caressed
Like, the way you rubbed your fingers on
Like, the way you tickled me on my neck.
Like, the way you squeezed my cheeks.
Like, the way you holded me up towards
Like, the way when you inspired me to fly
Tears dropped from my eyes and the very
next moment I realized that it is my
sensational love. My true love. Then I
decided that no one had right to do this
except you. If you want to know the
reason?? If yes??
Yes, because I seriously fell in love with
Yes, because you are the one to whom god
had assigned me to.
And here comes the Swifted instance
When, the moment you wore the golden
ring in my finger and I was happily waving
Just can’t forget the time when our long
lasting friendship turned into lifetime
It was just the blooming of two lover’s
indicating the herald of the marriage. It
means a lot for any girl in this amazing
And yes, you will always find my heart
topped with love showered only for you.
And till my last breathe, my heart beats,
beating for you, only for you SUYOG!!
In fervour I wanted you to be mine forever,
We both sojourned in each other soul so
deeply that we just can’t wait for a single
second, unless and until, we share what is
running in our mind. It’s just because we
are so much accustomed to each other
I Love you, adore you, adore you forever
Long poem by
Jerrika Holmes | Details |
Happy anniversary love.
Last year I would have never known,
That on this day we would be standing here, going 1 year & 5 months strong.
For you I will cross the oceans.
Together we could sail the sea.
I would climb the highest mountain.
If it determined that we would remain as "we".
I love you is worth more than a thousand words.
With each syllable you speak it slowly takes my breath away.
Mesmerized by your thoughts.
Your eyes, my eyes, we caught.
I reminisce about that September day.
Lovely, my love, you are.
Caring to me, you should stay.
My love, to you I give.
God would not have it any other way.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Your beauty, love, it shines so bright.
Internal beauty, a beautiful heart,
Has guided this girl towards an angels light.
Yes, you are my angel.
With me through smiles & tears.
More than love, but a true friendship,
Will glue us together for continuous years.
But that doesn't mean that the bond holding us together isn't tight.
Thinking of you,
The words continue to flow,
Straight into the sea under the moonlight skies.
There, I lay with my soulmate.
As he wipe away the tears from my eyes.
But this time, pain is different.
I shed my tears of joy.
I think about everything going good for me.
From our wedding, to you holding our newborn baby boy.
There is so much to live for.
When I say so much, yes I mean you.
You're my hero.
My angel that has never flew.
I don't want you to rush & gain your wings,
Because that means no more time we could spend.
I thank you for everything you have ever done for me.
Including this broken heart that you helped to mend.
Beams of sun rays shine on me.
Reminding me of the sunshine that I call my own.
Dark clouds soon rest above me,
When I think about how I have done him so wrong.
I admit my faults.
I just hope that you could forgive.
Without you how could I remain peaceful?
Without you how could I live?
I need you to be my guidance.
An angel to show me how I am weak.
Help guide me, hold my hand.
Teach me to prevent the tears from starting to leak.
I pour out my heart & soul.
With you, I expect the same.
We had each others back.
Loved one another.
Before learning each others name.
I really do love you.
I need you to understand that my words are true.
Know in your heart that I care.
I cherish my angel.
Forever into eternity I will remain in love with you.
Smile for me my love.
Plenty of x's & o's.
My head could not stop love.
Because you are who my heart chose.
Long poem by
Joe Flach | Details |
My first concern was to contact family, friends and employees that might be in the
immediate vicinity of the event. We are one of those lucky stories where my wife
had a doctor’s appointment and did not go to work that morning, otherwise - well,
I’d rather not think about otherwise.
Given what I do and where I was living at the time, I spent the rest of the week
trying to find corporate real estate immediately available for occupancy and doing
interviews. If you do a web search on my name and “eagle rock” you can still find
some of those articles.
Early Saturday morning, I took my one son who still lived at home onto the city to
volunteer our assistance. We took the Jersey City ferry into midtown. At first, we
made our way to the Javits Center where volunteers were to gather. Even at 6:30
in the morning this place was pure chaos with hundreds of people wandering
around with no organization.
We decided this was a lost cause and started walking down towards the World
Trade Center. What a surreal experience this was. For 30 blocks we walked down
the middle of NYC streets without any traffic in site. No taxis; no cars; no buses; no
pedestrians. It felt like a scene out of a science fiction movie with NYC totally barren
of life, save for the two figures making their way downtown.
A few blocks from downtown, we were met by roadblocks. We walked up and down
a few streets to see if there was any place we could be of service. We came upon a
street with a man on the other side of the blockade handing out water bottles to
rescue workers returning from the WTC. We asked the police officer if we could
assist the man and he let us inside the barrier.
The supply of water bottles was getting low so I gave the man $200 and he went
off to purchase more. Meanwhile, my son and I handed bottles of water to rescuers
covered in sweat and soot. Over time, a crowd started building up behind the
barriers and people started cheering and clapping for each rescue worker as they
came up to get some water.
Somehow, whenever the water bottle supply got low, a new supply arrived. My son
and I spent hours handing out water to tired and thirsty rescue workers as the
crowd grew and the cheering increased. It was just our way of providing what little
help we could and it helped us, personally, come to terms with what had taken place
in our own backyard.
This year marks the 10th anniversary of that tragic day on September 11. I hope we