It must have been something important
that, as a reporter on duty, I was on a bus
to visit some family in trouble,
and yet I can’t recall what it was.
All I remember is that when I arrived,
the planes had already crashed into the Twin Towers,
and instead of talking, we sat in silence
in front of the TV in their living room.
Then the editor called my mobile to come back
to the newsroom immediately, and that was it.
Their faces, names, and even the name of the town
have long since faded from my memory.
I don’t know if anyone got back to them eventually
to help with whatever it was that troubled them.
I guess, in a sense, they were victims too,
even if all they could ever get
was this feeble memorial.
hidden pilcrow 