Last week I used the Chambers Street/World Trade Center subway station for the first time since it was closed after the Twin Towers were destroyed.
I was struck by the mosaic eyes like the one above that are spaced out singly among the regular white subway tiles throughout the station.
I was struck by the mosaic eyes like the one above that are spaced out singly among the regular white subway tiles throughout the station.
Here's where my mind went:
Being underground, I felt as if these were the eyes of the dead of 9/11. Then I thought of the people who jumped out of the burning building, especially those who held hands.
I imagined the moment I cannot imagine. The people holding hands might not ever have even spoken before. It could have been the CEO and the office supply manager, or the woman who got the promotion and the man who was passed over, or the vocally pro-choice democrat and the quiet pro-life republican.
But with death behind and death in front, all that mattered was connection, shared humanity, shared frailty which combined to create a moment of strength and innocence that touched the world.
Then I thought, we are all on that ledge, with death behind and death in front. We pretend we are not, we pretend there is time for petty rivalry, indifference, even disdain. But being alive we are each of us standing on that burning ledge, a place that can only be cooled by the welcome of another's hand.
What are we waiting for to open ours?
Being underground, I felt as if these were the eyes of the dead of 9/11. Then I thought of the people who jumped out of the burning building, especially those who held hands.
I imagined the moment I cannot imagine. The people holding hands might not ever have even spoken before. It could have been the CEO and the office supply manager, or the woman who got the promotion and the man who was passed over, or the vocally pro-choice democrat and the quiet pro-life republican.
But with death behind and death in front, all that mattered was connection, shared humanity, shared frailty which combined to create a moment of strength and innocence that touched the world.
Then I thought, we are all on that ledge, with death behind and death in front. We pretend we are not, we pretend there is time for petty rivalry, indifference, even disdain. But being alive we are each of us standing on that burning ledge, a place that can only be cooled by the welcome of another's hand.
What are we waiting for to open ours?
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