The Next Day

My current work occasionally has me thumbing through books of poetry, seeking inspiration.  I came across a poem today reflecting on the day following September 11, 2001.  It seems to speak about acknowledging the profound horror and trauma that has taken place, as well as pointing toward staying engaged in life, despite the ways trauma and grief can feel as if our lives must grind to a halt as a result.  When journeying along the path of grief and trauma recovery, it’s wise to take small glances at the source of our pain, as well as stay connected to the facets of life that keep us engaged and help us seize hold of the present moment with its nurturing gifts.

September 12, 2001
X J Kennedy

Two caught on film who hurtle
from the eighty-second floor,
choosing between a fireball
and to jump holding hands,

aren’t us. I wake beside you
stretch, scratch, taste the air,
the incredible joy of coffee
and the morning light.

Alive, we open eyelids
on our pitiful share of time,
we bubbles rising and bursting
in a boiling pot.

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