It was the second week of my high school career as a sophomore on the morning of September 11, 2001. I remember riding in the car with my mom, listening to the radio on the way to get a bagel for breakfast, when news of the first tower being hit was announced. By the time we finished our breakfast, the second tower had been hit.
Even though I was 3,000 miles away in California, I felt a chill go up my spine. I knew the events of that day were the tip of the ice berg of what was to come.
I will always remember that day and I think of it every year on this anniversary.
When I moved to New York City in 2006, I spent my first 9/11 anniversary there. I can’t even explain the overwhelming feelings I encountered by being so close to the site and around the people who experienced the events first hand.
At that time I was living in Jersey City, NJ, which is directly across the Hudson River from Manhattan. I would ride the PATH Train into Manhattan every day. There are two trains that go to two different parts of Manhattan. One to Midtown and the other to the World Trade Center sight area.
In 2006 they had not started building the new trade tower. There was basically a great big gouged out hole at the sight. The train went through this hole to get to the train station. It was like traveling through an eerie grave yard. The sadness that emanated from it, hit me every time I took the WTC train.
While at school in NYC, I took a poetry writing class. I wrote a poem about riding on the PATH train through the World Trade Center sight. I thought I would share that poem today in remembrance.
The Train
By Laurel Teixeira
We ride the train everyday
Through the graveyard
Resurrecting into a new form
Still full of the spirits
Who are stuck there forever in memory.
Everything moves on
From one single day in history.
Everyone remembers
Where they were,
When they heard
The news and saw the images.
History taking place before our eyes.
That one single blip in time.
Just as those in the past
Remember the death of JFK—
But, only worse.
It has been burned in our memory,
Like a bright image is burned in the iris.
As we watched in horror
The scenes that befell,
So did an era—
An era of naiveté.
That one day
Can change—
The way
We think
We treat others
How we view our fellow beings.
Fear came into our lives.
That in one instant
Our lives can come
Tumbling down.
On that day,
No one thought of—
Governmental conspiracies
Or Wars
Or thousands more dead
…The good and the “bad”
On that day it was only
About that second…
We ride the train everyday
Some get unfazed by the memory.
If we really thought about
What everything truly meant
Could we keep going on
…this way?
