A Quiet Day in September
By Kirsten K., Media, PA
A quiet day in September
Working hard on a Spanish verb
I looked up from my desk
Our teacher looked perturbed
My classmates noticed too
We wondered what was wrong
She sobbed silently to herself
We’d know the story before long
An announcement came over the loudspeaker
I couldn’t believe my ears
We watched the footage on TV
I tried to fight back tears
Two planes had hit the World Trade Center
The words echoed in my head
“ ... an act of terrorism against the United States”
“ ... thousands of people are dead.”
My vision became foggy
My insides began to scream
My dad was in New York that day
This had to be a dream
They wanted me in the office
My body began to shake
I pinched my face and arm
To make sure I was awake
The hall seemed long and daunting
My legs felt like lead
My knees buckled; I fell to the floor
I was sure that my dad was dead
My guidance counselor rushed toward me
She picked me off the ground
“Your mother called,” she told me
“Your father is safe and sound.”
Along with so many others
My dad had been in the building that day
But when the first plane hit
He ran seven miles away
I’ll never forget the feeling I had
When my dad walked through our door
He had experienced a living nightmare
And seen the start of war
My father hugged me close
And in his arms I curled
Crying for those who had lost their lives
Crying for our shattered world.
|
