Ten years, I woke up to the phone ringing…
My Dad saying “Zoë, wake up, America is on fire.”
Ten years ago, I switched on the TV
minutes before the second plane hit.
Hours later, with nowhere to go,
I went out into the empty streets,
where lit candles were now perched everywhere,
and walked to Santa Monica without even thinking.
The beach was the busiest I’d ever seen it.
But also the quietest. Just people sitting on the sand,
some silent, some silently sobbing.
I sat down, and watched the waves roll in and out.
I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t cry, all I could do
was hold my now husband’s hand so tightly and
think of all those people… especially of those
people who held hands at the end.
Image by sixthandmain