Poetry Series at Paper Poetry

IX/XI-That Fall

Yeoubi- Sun Shines Through Rain

Monoreena Acharjee Majumdar
Paper Poetry
Published in
3 min readSep 27, 2022

--

Digi-Painting and Canva design by Monoreena

“If we learn nothing else from this tragedy, we learn that life is short and there is no time for hate.” — Sandy Dahl, wife of flight 93 pilot Jason Dahl, in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, in 2002.

The calls remained unanswered.

Anxiety in the room tearing at the ceiling,
The mosquito monotone subsonic to the
glaring TV set,
Screens imploding with fumes of falling
Towers. It was Fall.

The fall he joined his new office,
Some kind of a wish-come-true….
Sending back photos from his new
apartment,Tower Office,
Living Uncle Sam’s dream.

An early riser and early mover
must have reached office before
Time
…..the thought crossing
everyone’s mind, creating an ocean
of chill within the four walls,

Why isn’t he taking calls?!

Geography re-created.
I guess he said Boston.”
“Are you sure?
Do you even know what
You are talking about — “

Mother’s head creates
facts to sooth her tight
heart.
TV screen flashes the
Name of the dead.

Please turn off the TV.
Please.

The only way the dead
will not be dead. Yes.
The smoke from the screen
Filling the room, torturing the
eyes, tiny saline droplets
flowing through quiet prayers….

“He has a meeting in Boston
That’s what he said…..”
Maternal ditch effort to stay afloat….
We sit on a thorny cushion of hope.
Silence playing soccer.

A night of hail. Hell broke loose.
Hearts pounding like thunder.
Memories flashed like lightening.
Un-reasonability reasoned.
Reasons seeking runway….

…A tired dawn rolling up sleeves
for the eventuality,
Zzzzing TV dead, breath unplugged,
The phone rang.

Crrrrinnggg…..crriinngg…..

What? Didn’t Ma say I will be in Boston
This week”!

She did. But given her idea of the Atlas….
“Please go get some sleep all of you now,
Will talk tomorrow…yes, it’s bad here”
“106 missed calls?!”

Maybe your Motorola felt anxious…..

A night of storm, curtains drawn,
A thin streak of morning beam entered
through the blinds,
Squirming dust dots lighted
and alive.
For the rest — it was life after death.

IX/XI.
That Fall.
Yeoubi.

My Corner: A true story. An evening and night spent huddling for a close family member un-traceable, in the aftermath of the 9/11 tragedy.
In the words of a first responder:
“My older brother John lived [his life] in Technicolor. … When he walked in the door, the whole house lit up. And I’m sure heaven lit up when he got there too.” — Anthoula Katsimatides at the World Trade Center site in 2005.

Thank you Indubala Kachhawa for having me in this poetry series in Paper Poetry.

Thank you Suntonu Bhadra Carolyn Hastings and Paper Poetry for aid thrive creativity.

Thank you to everyone finding time to drop in to engage and encourage!

--

--