For the Falling Man
by Annie Farnsworth
I see you again and again
tumbling out of the sky,
in your slate-grey suit and pressed white shirt.
At first I thought you were debris
from the explosion, maybe gray plaster wall
or fuselage but then I realized
that people were leaping.
I know who you are,
I know there's more to you than just this image
on the news, this ragdoll plummeting—
I know you were someone's lover, husband,
daddy. Last night you read stories
to your children, tucked them in, then curled into sleep
next to your wife. Perhaps there was small
sleepy talk of the future.
Then,before your morning coffee had cooled
you'd come to this; a choice between fire
How feeble these words, billowing
in this aftermath, how ineffectual
this utterance of sorrow. We can see plainly
it's hopeless, even as the words trail from our mouths —
but we can't help ourselves—how I wish
we could trade them for something
that could really have caught you.
I figure, today, on the 5th anniversary of 9-11 - my sister sent me this poem. I thought it was quite profound. It saddened me. Then I thought of those that I have lost. Those that I still talk to even though they may not be in my life, some who have not even passed away. So I guess it's good to talk to those, and keep on remembering. I'm not talking about holding seances or anything like that. I'm simply talking about remembering those who have died in a different light. No one ever really dies. Their memories - and our memories of them - live on. Their energy can never be destroyed. It can only pass from one form to another.Although we never want to forget the horrors of what happened on 9-11 - we also do not want to forget the beauty of how those who've gone before us have lived. There's gold in the memories of our dearly departed. Let us never forget them.