Sunday, September 11, 2011

Last Words....

September 11, 2001

8:46 am

Sipping my coffee -

the shudder I feel,

is unlike anything,

I’ve ever experienced before;

there is fire in the sky,

ashes, then smoke in the air.

I stand - at first,

with curiosity,

some of the others,

make telephone calls.

I observe,

as co-workers look out

through their windows -

at debris floating down,

hundreds of stories over Manhattan.

Alarms start to sound.

We move for the stairs,

orderly - even cheerfully,

yet - a feeling of terror

runs fast through

my body - this is real,

terribly, truthfully,

real.

Into the stairwell - going down,

the heat is unbearable -

we stop,

move up again -

finally out,

breathless,

now running

to a second stairwell,

there are forty behind me,

men and women,

people I’ve known,

people of all ages

and in a kind of

slow motion moment,

I look to their eyes,

where I see recognition,

apprehension and fear -

as fate has it’s way with us.

The second door is an oven,

too hot to open -

my hand drops immediately,

with sorrow, then surrender.

We are trapped,

in this building,

with fire at our feet,

and sky in our faces;

there are screams now and tears,

total hysteria -

windows are broken

and panic takes over.

As I write these last words,

there is a terrible rumble,

the floor tips

and shivers,

friends jump to their death;

yet I -

sit propped here -

quiet and still,

holding a crying woman,

tearful and terrified.

the building smokes and sways,

I see fire in the sky,

In the walls,

in the floors,

and I know that this,

may be,

the moment before death -

just seconds before throwing,

these last words out to you,

my most vivid memories,

flying through a broken window,

into the morning blue sky,

as tears floating down,

to cleanse the sweet earth.

I want my last thoughts,

and my last blurry words written to be,

words of love -

thoughts of love -

love for our children –

love of life.

J.E. Dorsey aka Doug Claybourne

With love and respect for each of those 2996 people that died not knowing that September 11 would be their last day on earth. Each a light for us to discover peace out of the ashes.

J.E. Dorsey is the pen name for Doug Claybourne – J.E. Dorsey was Doug’s grandfather and this is the way Doug keeps him alive in his memory.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Irene...

We wake up to you

wet, torrential

dangerous and

lightning beautiful -

as I think about the days before

when we prepare for your arrival

buying food and water;

we set the table with

batteries, clothing, and documents

cash and small gifts of penlights,

Swiss army knives,

water bottles

and cat food.

Our go bag is packed

if you are naughty

we plan to leave

without goodbyes,

with only the pack on our backs.

We made lists

and crossed off each item

several days before

to welcome you,

but also not to become a casualty

of some freak accident

during the occasion.

We worked all day

on Friday – August 26

preparing for our special guest,

you Irene – you are large

and furious we hear.

We cook a special oven chicken.

A three day feast

that should make you happy.

When our eyes opened this morning

the fans are on – a surprise.

We expected to lose power

when you landed in New York.

Unlike other guests,

there is no need to pick you up

at Kennedy or LaGuardia –

you arrive at both airports

simultaneously and they are both closed.

We watched “War and Peace”

last night – made in 1972;

I see my old friend Anthony Hopkins

as a young man playing Pierre.

He is wonderful.

We lay awake talking about you until midnight.

We are excited to meet you.

We have heard so much about you.

We wake to our first call at 7am.

Funny, we rarely answer early phone calls

But today – because you are coming – we answer.

Sisters, mothers and friends ask about you,

but, you arrive late – and you are quiet

and unassuming on arrival.

It seems we are over prepared

for you Irene – we have too much food and water,

your bed on the first floor is not required.

The water in the tubs, and many containers go unused.

The buckets stand at attention, but will not see duty

And now at one pm – after one hundred years of waiting

we think you may have spent the evening elsewhere.

In New Jersey perhaps, or Red Hook or Coney Island.

We are grateful for that Irene.

Although we waited for you – we heard you knocking,

felt your breath on our front door,

it was good you found another place to land.

As, when you broke water in Brooklyn there was no celebration,

you made the roads impassable

closed our bridges, flooded our streets,

and moved a lot of people to places

they never wanted to go.

So conceivably,

you might choose to wait another hundred years

before you come again.

Don’t take offense – you started as a depression

became a tropical storm

and someone gave you a name Irene.

Perhaps, that became your motivation to see New York.

Doug Claybourne – 08.28.11

Monday, August 22, 2011

Our life together...

When one sings

We all sing

When one speaks the truth

We all understand

When one dances

We all know the tune

When one falls

We all fall

When one passes away

We all pass through

When one succeeds

We all succeed

When one fails

We all fail a little

When one loves

We all love

When one kisses

We all kiss

When one embraces life

We all embrace it

When one sees the stars

We all see stars

When one loses sight

We all lose sight

When one stumbles

We stumble in unison

When one learns a lesson

We all learn something

When one hurts deeply

We all hurt

When one cries out for help

We all cry out

When one travels far and wide

We all travel there

When one listens intently

We all listen

When one loses something precious

We all lose some joy

When one grows older

We all grow older – together.

And, when one of our children passes

taken in a sudden gust of life’s unpredictable wind

We are all lost a little, suddenly

sharing a dark unbearable pain inside

Knowing our hearts are aching with a

great and inescapable hurt.

Understanding –

When one falls

We all fall

When one cries out in need

We all cry out

When one grieves

We grieve together

And when one loves

We all love -

This is friendship.

When one learns to watch contently

and listen to a falling rain

We all learn to watch contently and listen

to a falling rain

Cleansing – soothing – forgiving.

Doug Claybourne - For my friend and teammate for life – R.S. and family.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Our guest...

A solitary waxing moon

winks

sinks

dips

drops

floats

falls

sits

sets

seemingly sways

and romantically weighs

against this magic hour

lays in
a classic crescent

low on the darkening horizon

on this early August evening.

Our silent dinner guest

we occasionally

glance at her

sometimes speak to her

but our guest,

polite

moving ever out of sight,

as always

remains quiet.

She eats nothing –

says nothing –

does nothing

to alter

her ever

observing,

unswerving

and always unperturbing

nature.

The perfect partner –

never

a cross word

nor argument

nor disagreement

much less

a sideways look that says

I am frustrated

or angry

or upset

or pissed off

or you missed

my point completely.

Ever discrete,

projecting a serene understanding

the patience

and always the open ear

of a dear friend

available to listen –

with no interruption

for as long as necessary

then disappears

without comment.

Doug Claybourne – for L.D.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

How lovely…#2

How lovely it is

to go to sleep with you again

lie close as spoons

then -

quietly

in the blue morning

of Saturday

after a week of being alone

I feel the warmth of you

next to me

and it is firmly reassuring.

I awake

pleased to greet

the day

begin writing

while listening

hearing the sounds

or our glorious weekend

as you move

to make tea.

I understand clearly

without a doubt

that this is joy,

this is bliss

in all it’s glory.

In this few moments

even the muffled sounds of cars passing

outside on eleventh street

are rose petals falling around us,

the kettle steaming

is a clear stream

and you cuddled back up

next to me – is stored away like a special secret

shared by two children at play.

The cats are waiting for

their morning treats.

This is what we

hope for –

live for -

this bliss –

these moments of grace.

J.E. Dorsey – for L.D. – 2^nd draft.

how lovely...

How lovely it is to go to sleep

to lie next to you.

Then -

quietly

in the blue morning

of Saturday.

after a week of being alone

I feel next to me

the warmth of you

and it is firmly reassuring.

I awake

pleased to greet

the day

begin writing,

listening

hearing the sounds

as you move

to make our tea.

I understand clearly

without a doubt

that this is joy,

this is bliss

in all it’s glory.

In this few moments

the muffled sounds of cars passing

outside on eleventh street

the kettle steaming

and you cuddled back up

next to me – is mined as secrets.

The cats are waiting for

their morning treats.

This is what we

hope for –

live for -

love for -

this bliss –

these moments of grace.

J.E. Dorsey – for L.D.

Friday, July 29, 2011

stop...

Stop – now.

Don’t take another step.

Stop this moment

Stop this second

Stop work and look closely

look out your window - or

look high into the remaining blue sky.

Stop playing music – this instant.

Take out the ear buds

take off your head phones

Stop listening to everything else

but the moment of now.

Stop typing – stop texting

Stop testifying.

Stop checking e-mail on the ipads

or your I-phone, or your cell phones

or your PCD or PED

or LED or your mobile rectangluar devices.

Look out your window

at the trees –

see the leaves blowing in the wind.

Smell the fresh air while you can.

Stop walking – stop dancing

look up and notice the birds historic

migration – seasonal – beyond reasonable.

Stop and notice the details.

Stop now.

Turn off the television sets

the flat screens, the entertainment news,

the changing weather forecasts,

the ABC, the NBC, the CBS, the HBO, the Showtimes

the HD Net, and every one of the 900 channels

of diversion - keeping you and me from seeing

the truth.

The sky is falling

Our earth is dying

Our glaciers are melting

faster than any time in history

and that should tell you – like the Inuit elders

“The earth is crying” they say,

“crying for help.”

The sky is falling.
Let's hope, it’s not too late.

J.E. Dorsey - for GGD