A poem I wrote shortly after surviving 9/11, as I tried to come to terms with the trauma and confusion I felt.
Was it real? I keep on asking
Was I dreaming? Or did it happen?
What was that in the sky?
Our world altered In the blink of an eye
The noise, the confusion
Everything in slow motion
The debris, the infusion
Of fire and commotion
The death that was coming
The death that was there
The death in 3-D that was showing
As people fell, like rain, in the air
Just like a movie it seemed
With the fire and smoke
Yet more like a very bad dream
From which one never woke
Oh, this cannot be
Was it real, was it real?
Is it true what I see?
I can't think, talk or feel
The people, they were crying
No, they were screaming, both I believe
One week later, I'm still trying
To absorb my own grief
The buildings, they both fell
As we all watched in horror
So numb in shock, our breath we all held
So intense was the loss of those souls
in each tower
Was it real? I know I keep asking
It's been two weeks, still I'm not sure
My memories and images on TV are
The sorrow, the pain, how much can they
I'm alive, yet my senses are gone
They're all dead, where are they?
Those that went up, those that ran down
Someone please tell me, was it real?
What's the ending?
💖 Never Forget
RIP Harry Ramos, Joseph Della Pietra & all the beautiful souls that perished that day