When the World Trade Center was hit by the first plane I was watching the late-night news. I actually thought I was seeing footage from a new Hollywood action film using the latest computer imagery. Like so many people I couldn’t believe it was happening. When I realised the footage was real I remember feeling cold all over, my hand covering my mouth. I moaned “How can this be?”
Six years later, the impact of that terrible day has not dimmed. It may take us a lifetime to overcome the horror, yet hope remains.
To those who lost their lives, to their families, to the rescue workers who are suffering from post traumatic stress or respiratory illnesses, to those who are still fearful of fundamentalist rage, we offer you our thoughts and prayers. We still remember. We still weep.
This poem sums it up best for me –
IN MEMORIAM VII
Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand
A hand that can be clasped no more
Behold me, for I cannot sleep
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.
He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again
And ghastly thro’ the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.
– Alfred, Lord Tennyson