Twin exclamation points dominated the near cityscape, concrete grey bled white by the unhindered sun, a commuter’s equivalent to the dominant coastal lighthouse in centuries expended.
By car or train, by aeroplane or means other, all who saw their proud stand knew to which community they belonged. From controversial as nascent idea to iconic and venerable in mature existence, the structures stayed the same. The world changed around them.
A demented misogynist divided his warped band into teams of four, the damage of three inflicted only because no one yet believed anyone capable of an action so heinous. On that day, the naiveté changed, forever after. Hijackings, ransoms, and asylum grew passé for want of emptied blood.
The excuses in justification ran the length of a roll of toilet paper, and for less worthy purpose. None listed included the need for a mirror and a close, hard look at its candid imagery.
America knows how to examine its own conduct in things less noble. We know how to stand and discuss and debate yet be friends. We can soul-search without need of coercion, terror, and death. We know how to look in mirrors. I…know how to look in a mirror and come away with an honest assessment.
John Kerry got it just about right. “Ask Osama bin Laden if he is better off now than four years ago.” Right on, John. Ask those dudes who in their misguided misogyny flew planes into buildings what after all exist for people.
The nineteen failed men, they believed a parade of vestal virgins waited at their next stop, ready to jump their every whim. I rather doubt it. I doubt an ethereal woman exists anywhere in the black hole they now call home, and in any case, they don’t have time for the playful, not when their bodies contort and stretch like play dough, absent delimitation, but with quite active nerve endings still doing their thing.
Enjoy, you numbnuts.
From afar, we honour those lost, absent knowledge those dear alone hold tight. To you, those who saved some, to you, who died trying.