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Wake me up when September ends
Sep. 11th, 2008 05:36 pmI heard the story of a child who drew the Twin Towers, and Superman was saving them, in bright crayon colors.
But I draw that scene differently. In my mind, even Superman cannot save them, and on that day he could not save them all, and though some who jumped from those towers he caught, he could not catch them all, nor save them all. And at the end he stood above the ash and rubble, by that brave flag, and wept. He wept for the cruelty of man, of the ordinary human. He wept for the bravery of the individual un-endowed with superpowers, for those who bravely entered those towers in the knowledge of almost certain death, in the hope of saving someone. He wept with all America that day. I sketch this scene in soft grays with pencil.
And as I sketch this scene in my mind, I remember, and I almost weep again. I pray for the departed, that they may find eternal rest, and that God may have mercy on their souls.
But I draw that scene differently. In my mind, even Superman cannot save them, and on that day he could not save them all, and though some who jumped from those towers he caught, he could not catch them all, nor save them all. And at the end he stood above the ash and rubble, by that brave flag, and wept. He wept for the cruelty of man, of the ordinary human. He wept for the bravery of the individual un-endowed with superpowers, for those who bravely entered those towers in the knowledge of almost certain death, in the hope of saving someone. He wept with all America that day. I sketch this scene in soft grays with pencil.
And as I sketch this scene in my mind, I remember, and I almost weep again. I pray for the departed, that they may find eternal rest, and that God may have mercy on their souls.
