Mark Fraser: Day Two Hundred and Fifty Four – Ten Years

Posted on September 11, 2011 by

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The story behind this odd photograph can by found by clicking through this photo.

Ten Years

I

I sat in Biology playing with a scalpel
when suddenly an intruder intruded,
a teacher in distress,
curious in her arrival at the
wrong place at the wrong time,
there to dissect the events which were unfolding
nearly three and a half thousand miles away.

“World War Three”, some thought
“The Nazis! It must be!”, others wrought
and then from the back, someone blamed the Arabs,
a hint at how our biological anthropology
would reverse in the coming decade.

We were sent home early
to affix a blank stare to our TVs.

Coverage was mirrored on two broken channels,
our family, echoing many other families
gathered round to reflect on the rage.
Towers fell; like the legs of a nation
a country shattered, the whole Earth shook.

I looked and I looked and I looked
on in horror
until I could look no more.

On a flipped out mobile phone, I spoke to my father –
neither of us could think of an answer.

II

I have seen this before;
Plumbs of toxic smoke engulfing gun metal gray.
I see it every year.

I have seen this before;
mangled steel and bodies being lead away.
I see it every year.

I have seen this before;
Bodies leaping into oblivion to escape the heat.
I see it every year.

I have seen this before;
parades to mark the day.
I see it every year.

We have seen this before;
atrocity on repeat, freedom on rewind.
We see it every year.

We have seen this before;
We’ve heard it play out, the rage of the American.
We see it every year.

We have seen this before;
No other excuse was needed, but this was the best one,
We hear the story every year
the aftermath lies across American hearts
and middle eastern sand.

I see the horror every year

desensitised to the bone

and it shocks me no longer.

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Posted in: Mark Fraser