Sept 11 One Kind Word: a poem and the start of a journey

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was in New York City giving an investment presentation to the executive team at Monster Worldwide.

Within a few minutes of starting that pitch, the Chairman was abruptly pulled out of the meeting by his assistant. We all looked at each other wondering what was going on. Some rolled their eyes and whispered to each other, chuckling.

Then a crescendo of anxiety quickly rose as rumors of a small plane hitting the World Trade Center escalated into stories about one tower being on fire. Many of us left the room and migrated to the south side of the high-rise building we were in.

We stood in a magnificent corporate office, with a glass wall dozens of stories high, providing a clear view of the World Trade Center. It was in fact on fire.

We stood mute, then gasped and shook as each tower crashed before our eyes.

I remember thinking that only a week earlier, I had been in the tower that now crumbled before my eyes, killing thousands as it collapsed. As my tears rolled down, I said a prayer of gratitude that I was a spectator and not a victim.

The city was eerily quiet that afternoon. I tried to rent a car to go home, but they were reserved for emergency personnel. All flights had been grounded. I headed to Union Station to try to get a train and found the station jammed with thousands of other would-be rail travelers. Within twenty-four hours, I was on Amtrak headed across the country to Seattle.

On the long ride home, I had time to reflect on this experience and wrote a poem. Every year, I read this poem again. I feel the same now as I did then. Every moment we are given an opportunity to build a better world.  It isn’t in the hands of our generals, presidents, or prime ministers. It is in our hands.

One kind word

-          Michael Schutzler

In one instant, all we knew

Assumed, hoped, or dreamed

Had collapsed.

So many aspirations, adulations, ruminations

And hard won stations

Washed away in a sea of fire,

Concrete and steel,

Dust and tears.

Haunting cries of electric armbands in the darkness

Screeching, shrill alarms

Sole witness and testimony

To heroes lost.

Twin towers of Babel

Monuments to the one language

That cowers humanity;

Mighty fortress,

Brought down with blood of innocents;

Pride bedashed lying at our feet;

Stench of smoldering death

Draped on a late summer breeze.

Ten thousand eyes burned dry for life;

Ten thousand hands scraped raw moving rocks in vain;

Ten thousand hearts broken searching in the rain.

Cries of vengeance! Calls for revenge!

Tip-tip like rain on a thin glass roof;

The question WHY bursts in

Desperate, choking, breathless despair.

But the soul of the world knows

What is softly whispered in the quiet corners

Of our solitude:

Violence sown is violence reaped.

Oh the mother of hatred is an empty belly;

And her husband is neglect.

Yet one act of kindness

Born of humility,

Propelled by faith,

Marks the end of suffering.

The time to act is a twinkling;

A challenge that flickers,

Fleeting and swift.

It is our chance to reply

With one kind word,

Or help lift one burden,

Or ask forgiveness,

Or offer thanks.

Our moment is at hand!

Don’t waste it.

Say one kind word;

So it might flourish and grow.

Hurry!

For in an instant, all you know,

Assume, hope, or dream,

May collapse

Leaving orphaned intentions

To wander in the caverns

Of broken hearts.

Insights & Opinions by Michael Schutzler