Below is the poem entitled 9-11 which was written by poet
Graf-Burnham. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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I awaken from the dream...never
can I recall seeing emotional pain
manifest itself so physically vivid.
An elderly gent is at the site where
the World Towers once stood. He is
accompanied by a faceless elderly
woman. He falls to his knees and I
search his face for what emotion
dropped him. I see nothing, no
shock, no realization, no nothing.
His face is blank, bland.
Upon noticing he isn't rising, the
woman assists him to his feet. As
she guides him forward, his face
crumbles into tearless hysterics,
silent screams. His chest begins
begins pounding in rythym to his
heartbeat as if dealt powerful
blows. It jerks his chest backwards
even as his feet carry him forward.
His arms flail wildly as if palsied.
I can't tell who he's lost: a son, a
grandchild, a beloved wife. But,
then, pain so intense must be for
the thousands upon thousands that
have lost their lives and the
thousands upon thousands left to
One death could could not cause
such physical manifestation of
agony and pain~such visual
wrenching and ripping of spirit and
Or could it?
Perhaps this is the grief felt by
each and every one left behind
having bore witness to such
careless, senseless hatred.