Never Forget

 

The day the dash moved the world

 

On September 11^th, people came together,

in fear, in hope, and help.

Heroes born in ashes and melted metal,

adversaries born in conjecture and rumors.

 

The 9-1-1 calls rang out worldwide

shut it down, planes diverted, blackouts ordered,

prayer vigils popped up: we lit candles, held hands,

and everyone was living in the news feed

hoping for more, praying for more, more survivors,

more facts, more direction.

 

September 11^th brought us together in disbelief.

We looked into a president’s eyes and saw fear.

We called our distant relatives; we began volunteering.

We met strangers and became wary friends.

 

Some of us lost friends; some of us built

trust on the hallowed ground. Some of us waged

war and revenge. Others were too devastated. 

 

Some remembered. Some forgot the names but never

the morning. Some carried fear into every airport,

every siren since, every stranger who looked away.

 

The language changed with us, an emergency number

became a date, a date became a wound; a wound became

a dividing line. All of us slid the dashes 9-1-1

into a single dash, 9–11.