Saturday, 11 September 2010

You will never forget where you were when....

My thanks to my dear friend Sal for allowing me to copy the following poem and tag.


You say you will never forget where you were when

you heard the news On September 11, 2001.

Neither will I.

I was on the 110th floor in a smoke filled room

with a man who called his wife to say 'Good-Bye.' I

held his fingers steady as he dialed. I gave him the

peace to say, 'Honey, I am not going to make it, but it

is OK..I am ready to go.'

I was with his wife when he called as she fed

breakfast to their children. I held her up as she

tried to understand his words and as she realized

he wasn't coming home that night.

I was in the stairwell of the 23rd floor when a

woman cried out to Me for help. 'I have been

knocking on the door of your heart for 50 years!' I said.

'Of course I will show you the way home - only

believe in Me now.'

I was at the base of the building with the Priest

ministering to the injured and devastated souls.

I took him home to tend to his Flock in Heaven. He

heard my voice and answered.

I was on all four of those planes, in every seat,

with every prayer. I was with the crew as they

were overtaken. I was in the very hearts of the

believers there, comforting and assuring them that their

faith has saved them.

I was in Texas , Virginia , California , Michigan , Afghanistan .

I was standing next to you when you heard the terrible news.

Did you sense Me?

I want you to know that I saw every face. I knew

every name - though not all knew Me. Some met Me

for the first time on the 86th floor.

Some sought Me with their last breath.

Some couldn't hear Me calling to them through the

smoke and flames; 'Come to Me... this way... take

my hand.' Some chose, for the final time, to ignore Me.

But, I was there.

I did not place you in the Tower that day. You

may not know why, but I do. However, if you were

there in that explosive moment in time, would you have

reached for Me?

Sept. 11, 2001, was not the end of the journey

for you. But someday your journey will end. And I

will be there for you as well. Seek Me now while I may

be found. Then, at any moment, you know you are

'ready to go.'

I will be in the stairwell of your final moments.

Author unknown.


ADB said...

Which is more pertinent than all the bluster that's been filling the airwaves of late.

Andy said...

That was very moving and I do not think I can add anything to that.

Marie said...

I loved this. Most people remember what they were doing when they got the news that terrible day of what had happened. My heart and prayers go out to those who lost their loved ones and those who were lucky enough to survive. Thanks for posting Jeanie! xxoo

BritSAL said...

Lovely entry my friend. How we share their sadness today. God Bless you.

Jan said...

Dear Jeanne and Sal ,this was a lovely tribute and one which made my eyes moist Jan xx

Jan said...

Dear Jeanne and Sal ,who ever put these word together spoke from the heart ,and touched mine Jan xx

Claudia's thoughts said...

This post brought tears to my eyes.

nancy said...

Nice entry. Glad to see you blogging.Lovely poem. God BLess you.

Gerry said...

Yes, we are remembering. I am sure practically the whole world was shocked at that huge terrorist act. I had just seen the twin towers on my first trip to New York and was in awe of their immense height, so I had some idea of the magnitude of both of them going down. I can still see the image of a plane I saw on TV flying into the tower and a woman screaming and crying and pointing on the ground, about to collapse with shock.

Liz said...

A beautiful poem describing an unspeakable act of cruelty imposed upon innocent human beings by their own species.
There is nothing new here. Such acts have littered history and still occur but do not receive the same media attention.
Why? Because they occur far from our doorstep, this in no way decreases the appalling tragedy but it must be seen as only one more instance when human beings show they have yet to learn how to understand each other.

Poets have an indescribable urge to write words that attempt to describe their thoughts. Those words may or may not be understood.
The thoughts are lost; the words remain.
The poet waits for the words he/she wrote to inspire thought in the reader.
The poet doesn’t care whether the thought generated is similar to what inspired the words. He/ she only cares that the reader was moved to think.

Jeannette said...

Beautiful entry and verse Jeanie. I finally found your blog! I didn't know you lived in the Lake District, I was there in July. Jeannette xx