terça-feira, 12 de setembro de 2006

A poem which is worth a thousand pictures

I don't care much for ephemeredes.
I'd rather care for memories and feelings, not for events.
Nourishing and cherishing them whenever my mind and heart say so is my way of paying homage and tribute to all those thousands and thousands of anonymous people who leave this world in the most absurd way.
Five years ago, on that day, I had gone home for lunch.
A meeting had ended sooner than I thought it would.
I took the tray to the living‑room to watch the news.
The first aircraft crashed into one of the towers.
In shock, only a few minutes later, I was bound to witness the second crash live.
And then the symbol of the whole tragedy yet to unfold became carved in my mind forever, as that man grotesquely fell down from the sky over Manhattan.
This is what absurd death always looks like.

For the Falling Man

by Annie Farnsworth

I see you again and again
tumbling out of the sky,
in your slate-grey suit and pressed white shirt.
At first I thought you were debris
from the explosion, maybe gray plaster wall
or fuselage but then I realized
that people were leaping.
I know who you are,
I know there's more to you than just this image
on the news, this rag doll plummeting –
I know you were someone's lover, husband,
daddy. Last night you read stories
to your children, tucked them in, then curled into sleep
next to your wife. Perhaps there was small
sleepy talk of the future. Then, before your morning coffee had cooled
you'd come to this; a choice between fire
or falling.
How feeble these words, billowing
in this aftermath, how ineffectual
this utterance of sorrow. We can see plainly
it's hopeless, even as the words trail from our mouths –
but we can't help ourselves – how I wish
we could trade them for something
that could really have caught you.


4 comentários:

Hera disse...

Estranho. Até o ano passado, essa era para mim uma data tão cinza... Acabei de chegar do niver de um amigo recente. Um doce de pessoa. Um menino lindo, mesmo. Sabe que agora já acho a data mais azul? Beijos (Droga! Não fui dormir ainda! Tive que ler o seu post! Fiquei curiosa! Mas agora vou!) Outros beijos

RIC disse...

És o máximo, menina! Adoro a tua impulsividade! Isso é que é juventude!
Não devemos fazer lutos só por uns. Foi sem dúvida um dia negro também para mim, mas quanto mais os políticos se aproveitarem dele, menor importância ele terá para mim. Manter-se-á apenas a sagrada lembrança das vítimas e o terrível desamparo das famílias...
Mais uns beijos, Hera!

Joel disse...

Yours will be the only place I'll comment on this.

The world over was in shock of what happened.

The world over was in mourning.

The world over was thinking of those thousands of people.

It has been 5 years,

we will always remember the incident.

we have mourned that day a so forth like normal mourning.

we probably think about it more then we should.

I have the book sold with the thousands of pictures on a shelf right next to my desk.

to take time to remember is one thing, to re-enact that plummeting man, those hijackers, all that was not seen is just troubling.

To want to make a bigger, worst memory in the minds of people is troubling.

Why make a bigger deal today then last year? Because it's a rounder number?

To me it's more propaganda.

It just reminds me of what as been done since.


It reminds me that nothing good came out of all of this.

It reminds me of the war that is still going on.

I don't remember the hijackers, I remember that nut case in the white house making a rodeo of all of this.

A blood bath, but the water is still running, after 5 years.

Each of them were mourned by all. Each of them got mourned longer by their loved ones.
Each of them have been and always will be remembered.
Lets not mourn again.
Lets not mourn anymore.

RIC disse...

Thank you, Joel, very much for sharing those thoughts with us all on my blog. I feel quite honoured.
There isn't a single thought in that meditation I could disagree with.
We are somehow closer to each other now. :-)