That day, a day like any other,
the tuxedo cat pads down the stairs while
a refrigerator hums in the kitchen, and outside,
leaves sway and drift to the ground into the melting of
dead, brightly lifeless colors.
But watch as her glass, dropping from her hand, bounces
to the floor, as the tea kettle screams and her hands blanket her mouth,
and notice as she’s unable to cry out. Now watch—watch as the TV man lifts his paper
with shaking hands, voice trembling as he introduces live footage of
crumbling and desolating powder flying through the air like a pound of
grey flour being thrown at the floor, exploding in every possible direction.
Watch as people scream, flee to anywhere, yet unable—unable to flee to
what we had before this,
one we were all begging for as
we watched her towers
desolate to the ground of New York City.
And outside, there were too many legs to find my father.
I saw the tears, a nervous and unsettling aura hanging over their heads,
how could anyone, any child, take in this fear
and understand it?
Once, when I was little, I heard a quote—I don’t remember
where from anymore. But it followed me, rang through
my ears, drumming with a hard, undeviating hammer,
at that moment. “We’re all as separate as fingers,
yet we are always from the same hand.”
Why were we all separated? Why—
why was this happening? I’ll never forget when I looked
and noticed the crossing guard give up on direction,
shoulders wilting as he turned his back and walked away.
Then there was Dad, and amongst the panic, the one—the
only one I knew would tell me, who would soothe me, who
would make sense of all the corruption, he grabbed my wrist,
pulled me into his arms and cradled me as if I was indeed the infant
I felt like in those short minutes. He walked home, not saying a word,
holding me in his arms.
I knew not to say anything. I knew at that moment, that
even if I asked, he would not answer. I saw him helpless,
the armor and strength ripped from him for the first time.
I decided to try anyway
and as I looked up and opened my mouth, his tears, silent
and unnoticed by me, splattered onto my face,
and I knew I would have no answer speak louder
than of that.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
That day, a day like any other,
the tuxedo cat pads down the stairs while
a refrigerator hums in the kitchen, and outside,
leaves sway and drift to the ground into the melting of
dead, brightly lifeless colors.
But watch as her glass, dropping from her hand, bounces
to the floor, as the tea kettle screams and her hands blanket her mouth,
and notice as she’s unable to cry out. Now watch—watch as the TV man lifts his paper
with shaking hands, voice trembling as he introduces live footage of
crumbling and desolating powder flying through the air like a pound of
grey flour being thrown at the floor, exploding in every possible direction.
Watch as people scream, flee to anywhere, yet unable—unable to flee to
what we had before this,
one we were all begging for as
we watched her towers
desolate to the ground of New York City.
And outside, there were too many legs to find my father.
I saw the tears, a nervous and unsettling aura hanging over their heads,
how could anyone, any child, take in this fear
and understand it?
Once, when I was little, I heard a quote—I don’t remember
where from anymore. But it followed me, rang through
my ears, drumming with a hard, undeviating hammer,
at that moment. “We’re all as separate as fingers,
yet we are always from the same hand.”
Why were we all separated? Why—
why was this happening? I’ll never forget when I looked
and noticed the crossing guard give up on direction,
shoulders wilting as he turned his back and walked away.
Then there was Dad, and amongst the panic, the one—the
only one I knew would tell me, who would soothe me, who
would make sense of all the corruption, he grabbed my wrist,
pulled me into his arms and cradled me as if I was indeed the infant
I felt like in those short minutes. He walked home, not saying a word,
holding me in his arms.
I knew not to say anything. I knew at that moment, that
even if I asked, he would not answer. I saw him helpless,
the armor and strength ripped from him for the first time.
I decided to try anyway
and as I looked up and opened my mouth, his tears, silent
and unnoticed by me, splattered onto my face,
and I knew I would have no answer speak louder
than of that.
