At every anniversary of nine-eleven New York City resonates with the memory of so many who passed. Its a beat of a collective heart. A soft, yet persistent empathetic pulse that says there is life, and pain here.
Ever since September 11th, 2001 the out-breath of our city has been a sigh. The sharp in-breaths acknowledge the continuing ache of emptiness and loss. What follows all loss, however, is an expectation of renewal, and the youth of hope, for life will go on.
Life abounds today in the faces and the actions of people as they move above and below the cobbled cracks of our streets and sidewalks and it dwells in the quarried homes and window stacks of human life and families.
For many people, even years after this tragedy, life is lived with whimpered smiles and the annealed skin of hard hurts. But below all of the pain, all of the loss, all of the tears, all of the memories, there is a definite rhythm to our city, you can feel it. It sings, and its heart says, “I am.”
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