Today, Seventeen Years Ago*
©September 11th, 2018
By Vijaya Sundaram
When the man fell
The world tilted itself,
And he fell straight,
Upside-down, but upright.
He fell like a feather, or a stone,
Calmly, a life rushing past,
A choice made.
Arms folded, one leg folded,
One leg outstretched,
He fell, as if falling
Was a thing that would never end.
Two dissolving walls of fire above,
A welcoming earth below.
No sounds of panic reached him,
No cries of terror stopped him.
No confusion blossomed in his mind,
For he had chosen, had made
That impossible choice,
The sky receding impossibly fast,
The earth reaching for him,
While he looked skyward.
No time for sorrow,
No space for dread,
No thoughts of what might have been.
No thought of what lay ahead.
Just one thought:
Here I am.
Now, here.
Now, here.
Here.
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*I didn’t want to write this poem, but I had to.
In honor of the Falling Man, and in honor of all who died that day.
In sorrow for all innocents.