A Letter from the East: "Americans All"

Sept. 11, 2002

Dear Editor,

It's the first anniversary of the events that people everywhere witnessed throughout the world. The temperature here is 73 degrees with mostly cloudy skies, and though the rain does not fall tears of the weeping replenish the earth. Somehow that's the way it ought to be.

While the sun rises here in the east, and you at home rise to the new day three hours later, the stiff wind today blows from the west, in the American Indian tradition -- "the place where the sun goes." How right and fitting this weather pattern is, and as the wind blows the dust on the wind, the myriad flags snap their report, as we hear the whispers on the wind.

The whole people stop in silence to remember what has happened here; in the background a siren wails its mournful cry, as someone in the now is the one in distress, and we are reminded that life inexorably goes on as we are tasked in our daily struggle to survive.

The names of those who were victims are read one after the other, and as the bell tolls at the hours that rage in new infamy, the names are spoken in respect from the lips of all peoples of all races speaking all names of all nations, Americans all.

I am taken aback at the notion that all peoples from all over the world are thus affected, and in this way a new age is born, of shared grief, a sense of oneness that is forged in blood of the innocents, and in this way we are resolved to a higher call.

Stand now oh beautiful and sweet city by the sea, join with us here in determined spirit as your own are listed among the rolls.