Special Feature: Selected Poems for Reflections on Remembrance of 9/11

My Dear Friends:

On this 25th anniversary of 9/11, I would like to share a few poems reflecting on how we—Americans and non-Americans alike—remember this tragedy: not only through the lens of individual grief, but also against the heavy sociopolitical and geopolitical landscape shaped by the “War on Terror.”

false dawn

in a bead of grass dew —

September 11

another year

another “thoughts and prayers” —

9/11, grayer

And after ...

Facing south, a sea of white empty chairs, 2,753 in all, flooded the lawn of Bryant Park, Midtown Manhattan. One for each person. Not a breath of air. This burden of hushed silence...

blinds drawn

against the light of dawn

9/11, yet not

FYI: This is a sequel to my haibun below:

An Unofficial Story, A Haibun

for Oskar

ink-black:

smoke trails a life

from the north tower

Another sleepless night. Winter moonlight on the empty side of her bed. From the bedside table, she picks up A Place of Remembrance: The Official Photo Book of 9/11. She stares at the book for a moment. The tears roll down her face as she rips out some of the pages. With a sigh, she puts the torn-out pages in reverse order. When she flips through them, dozens of people are flying through the windows back into the building.

Editor's Choice Haibun, Cattails, May, 2015

Comment by cattails Haibun Editor Sonam Chhoki: The power of Chen-ou Liu’s haibun, "An Unofficial Story for Oskar" lies in its closing sentence: “When she flips through them, dozens of people are flying through the windows back into the building.” It is amazingly evocative image that has echoes of redemption and freedom from the tyranny of time.

Retracing and Reflecting

for those who have journeyed heavily across the landscape of the heart

the light of dawn

on September Twelfth

the time it takes 

for leaves zigzagging 

to the dust-choked ground

off the tower

one after many sped downward —

Muslim lives

and our world ripped by the day

before and forever

the footprint

of each tower that once stood

now surrounded

by four walls of water and grief

an Afghan woman's look

FYI: The dedication alludes to Melvina Young's remark:

Sadness takes its own time. It can't be hurried along. It can't be rushed. It "moves heavily across the landscape of the heart" until time and love can carry it further into the distance.