Five years ago, I wrote about September 11th through the lens of my divorce, talking about the hole in the sky where the towers had been, and saying to myself, "Yes, that's what it feels like." Since the one and only time I saw the towers in person, I was on a business trip I didn't want to take, scheduled in the middle of my first marriage falling apart, I definitely think there's a poem in there somewhere. The political really is personal, I guess.
Years later, though, I think of someone I saw in some documentary, talking about how much he missed the towers, and then suddenly one morning he realized that now his appartment had a view of the Statue of Liberty. And maybe there's a poem in that as well.
Six years later, it's still all tied up together. I can't believe that there's still a wound on the landscape of lower Manhattan while I'm the happiest I've ever been in a marriage the likes of which I never thought could exist.
That's on the personal side. On the political side, I can't believe Bin Laden is still walking around making propaganda videos and the guy who promised to catch him seemingly could care less.