On this date, seven years since the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, I am reminded about a lingering emotion of loss and a mood of mourning throughout the nation in the following months just as the lower layers of rubble from the World Trade Center towers continued to burn. Indeed, four months later, the halftime show by U2 presented at the Super Bowl in the beginning of 2002 provided one of the memorable and moving tributes to the victims of 9/11. Even today, I recall feeling stunned from the impact left by the unrolling of victims’ identities above the stage, particularly when I noticed the last name “Byrne” listed a couple of times.
Additionally, in the past seven years there have been some poignant poems concerning 9/11 and its aftermath, such as Stanley Plumly’s “The Morning America Changed,” which appeared in the Fall/Winter 2002-2003 issue (Volume IV, Number 1) of Valparaiso Poetry Review and was included as the "VPR Poem of the Week" last September 11 in “One Poet’s Notes.” However, American poets have not been the only ones to offer effective responses to those 9/11 images witnessed by the world. Indeed, Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska—winner of the 1996 Nobel Prize in Literature—included a compelling poem, “Photograph from September 11,” in her 2005 collection titled Monologue of a Dog.
Additionally, in the past seven years there have been some poignant poems concerning 9/11 and its aftermath, such as Stanley Plumly’s “The Morning America Changed,” which appeared in the Fall/Winter 2002-2003 issue (Volume IV, Number 1) of Valparaiso Poetry Review and was included as the "VPR Poem of the Week" last September 11 in “One Poet’s Notes.” However, American poets have not been the only ones to offer effective responses to those 9/11 images witnessed by the world. Indeed, Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska—winner of the 1996 Nobel Prize in Literature—included a compelling poem, “Photograph from September 11,” in her 2005 collection titled Monologue of a Dog.
PHOTOGRAPH FROM SEPTEMBER 11
They jumped from the burning floors—
one, two, a few more,
higher, lower.
The photograph halted them in life,
and now keeps them
above the earth toward the earth.
Each is still complete,
with a particular face
and blood well hidden.
There’s enough time
for hair to come loose,
for keys and coins
to fall from pockets.
They’re still within the air’s reach,
within the compass of places
that have just now opened.
I can do only two things for them—
describe this flight
and not add a last line.
—Wislawa Szymborska (Translated by Clare Kavanagh and Stanisław Baranczak)
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