ODE FOR THE UNKNOWN COMMON CITIZEN-HELPLESS VICTIM OF TERRORISM

V.SUNDARAM I.A.S.

10th Anniversary of 9/11

September 11, 2011 marks the 10^th anniversary of the savage terrorist Islamic attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York USA. The commemoration of the 10^th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks began on 11-9-2011, led by President Barack Obama, with the roll call of the dead being read out during a ceremony in New York. Few events have called forth a greater range of emotions: sorrow, courage, fear, pride, but – most of all – perseverance, hope, and resolve.

President Obama joined former President George W Bush, both shielded behind bullet-proof glass screens, and quoted from the Bible, reading from Psalm 46:4.

Michael Bloomberg, the Mayor of New York, then quoted Shakespeare, saying: "Let us not measure our sorrow by their worth, for then it will have no end."

The names of the dead were then read aloud by relatives of some of the victims. The readers had the opportunity to add a personal tribute to their relatives, some even held up photographs of their loved ones, and this formed the most poignant part of the service.

The simple ceremony - without any speeches - built a cumulative weight of loss as the names were counted and generated a sense of the ongoing sadness which has affected so many. The reactions among the thousands of people gathered at the memorial varied between grim dignity and quiet grief.

In his weekly radio address, President Barack Obama called for national unity as he attempted to reassure the nation in these words: "We are doing everything in our power to protect our people. And no matter what comes our way, as a resilient nation, we will carry on. The terrorists who attacked us that September morning are no match for the character of our people, the resilience of our nation or the endurance of our values."

On this sad and solemn occasion, I recall distinctly the following words of the former President George W Bush spoken on November 11, 2001:

“Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honour. We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children.”

Again on December 11, 2001, President George W Bush spoke as follows:

“Now, we have inscribed a new memory alongside those others. It’s a memory of tragedy and shock, of loss and mourning. But not only of loss and mourning. It’s also a memory of bravery and self-sacrifice, and the love that lays down its life for a friend–---even a friend whose name it never knew.“

Nearly 3000 people were put to sudden death by unforeseen terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers in New York on that fateful and frightful day of 9/11. There is an old beautiful English Proverb which says “DEATH CANCELS EVERYTHING BUT TRUTH.” The tragic truth of sudden traumatic death shook up the minds hearts and souls of the kith and kin of those 3000 people who were overtaken by sudden death on that day. How do I describe the convulsed feelings, emotions and sentiments of those near ones and dear ones of the victims? The very beautiful words of the great Welsh poet Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) are worth quoting here:

                       “Do not go gentle into that good night….

                        Rage, rage against the dying night”

Death is not anything. Death is not…it’s the absence of presence, nothing more…the endless time of never coming back….a gap you can’t see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound.

In my view the three thousand people who lost their lives on the morning of 9/11 in the Twin Towers have not died in vain. In support of this argument I would like to quote the solemn and sublime words of Dag Hammarskjold (1905-1961):

“Do not seek death. Death will find you. But seek the road which makes death a fulfillment “.

The spiritual observations of Herman Hesse (1877-1962) are also very relevant here:

“To die is to go into the COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS, to loose oneself in order to be transformed into FORM, PURE FORM.”

The most beautiful poem on the seismic and cataclysmic impact of sudden death on humanity as a whole is the one by W.H.Auden.

W.H.AUDEN ON ‘DEATH’

I
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crępe bows round the white necks of the public
    doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

II
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.

Eric Hoffer (1902-1983) was right when he wrote in 1954: “Death has but one terror, that it has no tomorrow.” One cannot live with the dead; either we die with them or we make them live again. Or else we forget them. That is why I am having recourse to my knowledge of history and literature to make the 3000 people who died on 9/11 live again.

In the aftermath of the tragedy on 9/11, there was a continuous outpouring of great poetry. Many poets came forward not only to find new emotions but also to use the ordinary ones and, succeeded in working them up into very evocative poetry. Here the words of the great poet T.S.Eliot come to my mind: “A gret poet’s mind is in fact a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings, phrases, images which remain there until all the particles which can unite to form a new poetical compound are present”.

The world is so great and rich, and life so full of infinite variety, that you can never lack occasions for poems. As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical. A great poet succeeds in seizing the PARTICULAR and if he finds anything sound or timeless in it, buoys himself up to represent the UNIVERSAL. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) was absolutely right when he said in 1957: “The crown of literature is poetry. It is its end and aim. It is the sublimest activity of the human mind. It is achievement of duty and delicacy.”

As an instance of beautiful post 9/11 poetry, I would like to present the following poem by Nicholas Gordon

Nicholas Gordon

SO MAY A TINY, CLEVER ENEMY

So may a tiny, clever enemy
Wield more power than the greatest states.
Inventive, mutant, merciless murderers,
Now they plot as the world prepares and waits,
Each moment shadowed by catastrophe.

For us, the only road to victory
Lies through the valley of the sufferers,
Unified in love till death abates.

The above poem had a convulsive impact upon my thoughts, my feelings and emotions. In 1960 Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) wrote a beautiful essay titled “On Poetry”. In this essay he wrote: “A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape and significance of the UNIVERSE, helps to extend every man’s knowledge of himself and the world around him”.

In short, great poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the lightning flash of a moment .

Wisława Szymborska

Nobel Prize-winning Polish poet Wisława Szymborska has given a graphic account of the 9/11 tragedy in her following poem “PHOTOGRAPH FROM SEPTEMBER 11.”

They jumped from the burning floors—
one, two, a few more,
higher, lower.

The photograph halted them in life,
and now keeps them  
above the earth toward the earth.

Each is still complete,
with a particular face
and blood well hidden.

There’s enough time
for hair to come loose,
for keys and coins
to fall from pockets.

They’re still within the air’s reach,
within the compass of places
that have just now opened.

I can do only two things for them—
describe this flight
and not add a last line.

By not adding a last line and by not giving the poem its expected (and easy) closure, Szymborska keeps the work open, the wound fresh.  

Del “Abe” Jones

Let me now present another poem titled ‘A DAY TO REMEMBER’ by Del “Abe” Jones

Anniversary is not a proper word
To mark the meaning of that day
And now, five years from that date
Is not nearly far enough away.

Too many families and loved ones
Still feel that pain down in their Soul
From the Towers to the Pentagon
To those who heard those words, “Let’s roll!”

Hearts still ache and tears still flow
On the eleventh of another year
Those who lost will always miss
All those People they hold, dear.

There are still unanswered questions
For those who ask the reason, “Why?”
Was it really necessary
For all of those folks to die?.......

…………………………………..

………………………

So as we celebrate the lives
And mourn all of those who died
In all their names we must try
To regain our Nation’s pride.

“By and for the People”
Is the way that it should be
And whether it will or not
That is all up to you and me.

The above poem was written in 2006 five years after the 9/11 attack. Del “Abe” Jones’s poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings. It takes its origin, shape and form from uncontrollable emotions recollected in tranquillity.

The sudden death of hundreds of men and women in a matter of less than one hour on 9/11 left the families of the innocent victims desolate, lonely and forlorn.  This grim tragedy made me suddenly aware of the following immortal lines of Laurence Binyon from his great poem during the dark days of the First World War. Whatever he said about the fallen soldiers in that poem, can well be adapted and made applicable to the 3000 or more victims who laid down their lives on 9/11.

LAURENCE BINYON (1869-1943)

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Millions of lives were lost during the Second World War from 1939 to 1945. When the War broke out on September 3, 1939, W.B.Yeats

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

       THE SECOND COMING

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

Words of Remembrance

PERICLES (495-429 BC)

The following deathless words were written by PERICLES well over two thousand years ago, long before the first ANZAC Day---long long before 9/11.

“Each has won a glorious grave ---- not that sepulchre of earth wherein they lie, but the living tomb of everlasting remembrance wherein their glory is enshrined. For the whole earth is the sepulchre of heroes. Monuments may rise and tablets be set up to them in their own land, but on far-off shores there is an abiding memorial that no pen or chisel has traced; it is graven not on stone or brass, but on the living hearts of humanity. Take these men for your example. Like them, remember that prosperity can be only for the free, that freedom is the sure possession of those alone who have the courage to defend it.”