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        By Kara L.C. Jones 
      
        Dedicated to those  
          whose lives were taken  
          on September 11, 2001  
          and to Dakota Jones  
          whose life ended  
          on March 11, 1999. 
       
      When I woke that morning 
        it was not to light, nor birds chirping 
        no, that morning I woke 
        to the Towers 
        falling 
        all around me 
        everything falling... 
       
       I already detested the 11th of each month 
        my own son died two and a half years ago 
        on the 1lth 
        after falling dead 
        on my bladder 
        cord accident 
        in the 39th prenatal week 
        they called him a "stillborn fetus" 
        not a "child" 
        but my son was dead all the same... 
       
       And now that morning 
        of this 11th day 
        the falling was happening all over 
        NY and DC 
        and my heart caught 
        with the knowing of all that those families 
        now face, the never 
        ending process of grief 
        and my heart caught 
        because I knew some 
        who were there or 
        suppose to be there-- 
        it took a full day to find out 
        Steven, Anthony, Andrew 
        were in Midtown, not Downtown, 
        Bonnie and Lou 
        were in Aspen, 
        Christy 
        was in Memphis, 
        Mike 
        was just out 
        from the subway 
        on the street 
        looking up 
        when the 2nd plane hit 
        and my heart caught 
        when I learned 
        that he was okay 
        but in shock 
        covered in soot 
        with hundreds of others 
        who were told to "go home" 
        with no way to get home except 
        to walk 40, 50 blocks 
        uptown 
        across bridges 
        briefcases still in hand 
        no one talking 
        no one looking back... 
       
       I woke that morning 
        to hear the world 
        falling 
        down around us 
        hearts and buildings breaking 
        survivors making their way 
        one soot covered foot 
        in front of the other 
        back home 
        away from shock 
        into grief... 
       
       forever dreading 
        the 11th of each month 
        just as I do. 
       
        
      Kara lives on Vashon Island which is a much 
        more awesome place than she ever imagined it would be. She is a poet, 
        bookmaker, wife, teacher, bereaved mom, facilitator, receptionist, founder, 
        struggling p.t.barnum, turtle faithful, editor, artist, and a million 
        other things that will prevent you from putting her in any one particular 
        label box! Kara teaches through local art centers, artists in the schools 
        programs, KotaPress and independently. To find out more about her, see: 
      http://www.KotaPress.com/kara/karajones.htm 
       And her class Expanding Poetry is now available 
        in an online format from CourseBridge.com where you can register today 
        at: 
      http://www.coursebridge.com/html/courses/writing/cbep01.asp  |