Lest we forget—poetic musings for 9-11

LEST WE FORGET!

              I have no original or meaningful words as a memorial to the 9-11 event except in mine and another’s poems. There are probably no words—except in poetry—to grasp or deal with or meditate on the horrific happening.

From my September 2012 haiku booklet, a lamp to work by, the poems on September 11, 12 and 13 follow: --World Trade Towers/ “attacked … aflame …/ aground” (a quote from the state paper’s editorial on that day)

--medical teams/ volunteers of all colors/ in hospital green (Ibid);

--two days later, / he pulls his “9-11” shirt/ from a jumbled drawer. (Billy)

 My brother in California designed t-shirts for the family memorializing the day. On the front is a photo of the Statue of Liberty and on the back, block letters in a frame say “A Day to Remember, 9 – 11 – 2001”. Billy, age 22 when the poem was written, and I, still wore our shirts and I hung (and hang) the flag each year since. And I’ve already worn my shirt this year.

Searching further, I remembered that a poet friend in southern Missouri wrote a book of elegies called The Silver Cord. I asked via email if he would give me permission to use some of his poems for this column. Dale Ernst of West Plains, formerly of Eureka Springs, was glad to oblige. “That’s exactly what I wrote it for,” he said.

SLIPPING THE STEEL – “Must go, can’t stay the course/ upstream, even if I wanted to. // Slipping the steel. / Slipping the body. // In a flash of shimmering light--/ instant fusion, of this world and that …// then the deep blue, of gone.”

MORE AND MORE – “More and more, it seems/ I am walking through myself--/ a disappearing act, or should I/ say, an ongoing act moving on. //To where I don’t know. // When we wave goodbye, / there is the very strong feeling/ that it could be the last time.”//

ASHES – “Here we all are on this old river bank, / a place you and I walked many times/ on summer days—sometimes talking, / sometimes not—it didn’t really matter, / just being here was enough. // Now I stand here—silver vase in hand-- / with family and friends. // Everyone says their farewells/ in their own way—some with a prayer, / some with a simple goodbye. //

“As I raise the vase and cast your ashes to/ the waters, the wind picks up, as if on cue, / sending them far out over the river. // It may have its way, carrying the remnants of your/ earthly form away, but within, you still abide; / our spirits now dancing on eternal currents—as one.”//

Pat, again: If you would like more poems like this, The Silver Cord by Dale Ernst, can be purchased from the Book Store at thebookpatch.com.