P0324074

04.12.09 20h50 When I realised that I was inhaling dust, the remains of those who had been cremated in that inferno, I could only think:
The burning sensation was the spirits of those people, digging their skeletal fingers in to my lungs and throat, clawing their way back up, to escape “me”. They wanted… the needed to be set free, and I was imprisoning them in my body. They were fighting, they were scratching and scraping… and I kept breathing.

Each time I inhaled, I drew cremated ash deeper into my lungs. The moisture of my pulmonary tissues adhered the ash and particles to “me”. Like nicotine to a cigarette smoker, a part of that substance – those PEOPLE – would be absorbed into my body. What mineral or other compound that could be, would become ME! These incinerated humans, these strangers, would continue to walk the earth… as part of my being.

But their spirits’ need to be set free was so great that they fought, and in doing so, scratched, burned, slashed at my body. I coughed. I sneezed. I gagged. They fought.

When the coughing, sneezing and gagging subsided, I wondered:
Who are they?
and
Where are they… inside me now?

It’s 3 years later – and I still wonder.

04.04.09@7h57

Smoke and cynders in the air
rose high above Hell’s raging inferno.
Towers of glass and steel
turned torches on earth’s horizon.
All turned to ash
as I stood helpless
but to watch and witness.
And cremation
cremation of the trapped.

Their ashes mingled with the dust
and soot that filled
my lungs and throat
and covered earth around me
and in my sleep I breathed them in
and in my waking hours
breathed them in
deeper still.

It burned!

The flames had been extinguished
but bits of strangers
lingered all around.
The sky might have been blue again
but they were still there
suspended in my air.
My lungs pulled them in…
inside me.

Microscopic bits of body,
bone and spirit
of those who once looked on in terror,
charred and turned to ash
now adhered to my moist lungs
in the darkness of my own body.

In my nostrils, throat and lungs,
sharp claws punctured my flesh,
scraping
to be set free.
Spririts climbed higher toward the light
torturing me.

It burned!

I breathed.
They fought my efforts to live.
I inhaled
and pulled them deeper inside.
These strangers
these people
affixed to my own tissues
lodged within my chest
so very close to my heart.

I thought it was
like fiberglass, or sand or tiny stone
that rasped against my lungs and throat
but it was more like
firey claws
of spirits fighting
to be set free
of me.

In time… time… time…

The remnants of the cremated
affixed, adhered to my internal flesh,
entrapped
through no fault of theirs
nor mine
disolved, absorbed, became
enjoined.

And when the
burning, scratching, clawing
ceased
these strangers
the cremated
pulsed through with-in my blood.

How many of them
I wonder
now trapped inside me
will wait
wait with me
to die a second time
and finally
be set free.

A question that
in silence lingers
and now
years after…

it burns!

13h20

To have survivied
is not to have survived
but only to linger
tortured
with no other to know
none to understand
none who comprehend
to walk amidst
(not amongst)
those who would forget
or
claim a tragedy
as their own
having not the slightest idea
nor notion
but looking for a reason
to beg sympathy.

Disregard us
who lived
and live
carrying in our lungs
the dust of buildings gone
and the ash
of those who perished.

You won’t see
what we harbour
in our hearts.
The pains and despair
or that ash
which has become
what we are today.

We hold it all
with-in us
and you can live
and we will simply
disappear
not even with
pity
for you.

 11 September 2004 (Newburgh)

No chruch bell tolled
as morning rose uninterrupted.
A cloud passed over the sun…
it retreated and dawn departed.
The day began
sun filled all eyes
and there was no silence.
And I was alone.

Non-existent
I retreated, pulled my-self
into my-self
surrounded by my-self
I heard my heart
break.

Images of a television screen
the stairs
the roof…
The silence of disbelief
of anger, sorrow, despair
and fear
like strobing flashes
my mind reeled…
in total solitude.

A wave overcame me.
I was lost and tumbling
no control
to drift away.

The darkness,
in a solitary soul
it was alone…
I was
lonely
so lonely.

Nothing in common
and nothing to share
my family so far away
I retreated to my lawn chair
down-stairs
in the back-yard
sitting with ones Loved
and Loving
We waited for returning survivors
beneath the flag
under which I slept
and folded to take with me.

I clutch my flag
as a long-lost Love One
and silently remember…
alone
save my memories…
the only commonality left…
inside.

“From Under the Rubble” is a collection of my thoughts and night-mares since 11 September 2001 or what too many simply refer to as “9/11”. I claim absolute copyright to all of my works published here. I’ve only put these to the Internet so that others may see that not ALL of those who suffered and continue to suffer are in the news. I hope this helps someone along the way.

Addendum:
Thursday.12.September.2013 20.08 It has been years since this was written and put on-line. It has been years since the event at the World Trade Center happened. But yesterday I found the site: http://www.angelfire.com/indie/bronxwolf/ and since it is my writing and a piece of my history, it deserves a place in my Journal. – Nobody knows of this, these feelings that I had then, have had all through my life. I’ve thought about it many times, and I’ve wondered what effects breathing those ashes has actually had. I don’t know for certain, and now? I don’t care to know at all. – The one question that repeats… forever… Why did I over-sleep that morning? I was supposed to be at the WTC that morning just as it all took place. Why did I over-sleep that morning? Why? For fuck’s sake; WHY?