Emagines – a personal collection of words

The runway is dark — no flights in or out today
in the distance crackling lightning races across the sky

and pierces the curtain of tumbling raindrops
tossed by the unrelenting howling wind

the strobe blinds me and etches the outline of my body
against my bedroom wall for a fleeting second

then the rumbling boom rattles my window
scattering echoes like scudding waves around me

The room is dark — sleep eludes me tonight
a swirling storm in the deepest recesses of my mind

tossing spinning monochromatic images
of Hiroshima Shadows etched on city walls and sidewalks

by that deadly blinding scorching atomic blast
pulsing a million red-hot typhoons for an eternal second

I yearn for the gentle embrace of warm onsen waters
to soothe my raging emotional turmoil

Inspired by a friend’s visit to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial and her being stranded at Kansai International Airport when typhoon Hagibis struck Japan

This year marks the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks in New York. The remembrance ceremony is broadcast live every year on the major TV networks.

Each year I plan to follow the live telecast in its entirety, but I can only bring myself to watch a few minutes of the ceremony before I switch the TV off – the telecast simply evokes and amplifies too many painful memories. In feeling this way, I can only assume I am not unlike many others who were here in New York on that sad and tragic day.

I can still clearly recall the roar of the engines of the 767 as it flew low and fast overhead heading towards the southern tip of Manhattan. I remember the sense of unease and confusion when the early morning television news reported the first crash. The news reporter got it wrong initially – they speculated that a light aircraft had accidentally hit the North tower.

When it became clear after the second crash that something horrible beyond imagination had happened, I remember feeling sick in the pit of my stomach.

Some of us react to emotional trauma by clinging to our daily routines, and I remember heading unthinkingly to my office at the UN on that clear September morning. And I recall the sombre mood of everyone in that subway carriage on the B train to the Bryant Park subway stop – we were all visibly shaken and distraught.

When I exited the stop at Bryant Park, I remember joining the crowd of people milling around and staring anxiously down 6th Avenue at the huge dark plumes of smoke billowing into the crystal clear sky. I remember the scene was too much for me to bear and I had to quickly avert my eyes.

I remember the courage and bravery of those first responders. And I remember the grief stricken desperately searching for their loved ones with a flood of flyers that appeared virtually overnight around the city

I remember the transformation of Union Square as New Yorkers converged there in droves to grieve. I remember how our planned visit ended abruptly because we turned home a block away from Union Square when we were overwhelmed by the raw emotion of the moment.

And I remember we all asked “Why?”