I have some issues with movies that are releasing currently.
First of all is World Trade Center. I’ve listened to news coverage of the movie, and of the reactions, both positive and negative, to Stone’s new film, the second about that fateful day when they came and knocked our towers down. I see the value in, as one person stated, creating a memorial to the event while the memories are still fresh in our minds. I’ve listened to many, many of my own friends say that they’re just not ready for this yet.
Now there is a television movie called Surviving Katrina on the Discovery Channel. My wife and I had the same reaction…we rolled our eyes at the commercial.
9-11 and Katrina were horrific tragedies…one was man-made, one was natural. I’m not attempting to compare or equate the two in any way by any method or any quantity other than to say that, in both events, lives were lost, hearts were broken, and lives were changed forever. Both are scars on the souls of those who lived through them, nightmares in their dreams, flashbacks during their days. In some way or another, both were undoubtedly spiritual journeys and sources of questions about God and evil for all of us. Certainly they were for me.
As an artist, I understand commemorating these events.
As an American, I cringe when I hear either one referred to.
In any case, I question whether this is true artistic reflection, or whether they are capitalizing on past tragedies for financial reasons. It concerns me.
Will I see either one? I have to leave that undecided for now.
I have a poem for you. At the risk of looking like I’m tooting my own horn, I want to share a poem I wrote on 9.11.06, struggling with media’s exploitation and people’s obliviousness.
Five Years
five years
seems so short
so dense
so much meant
so much passed
so little done
so much done
somehow we live
past each day
and bury
our fear
our past
our terrror
somewhere deep
in our hearts
with every beat
we drown
the loss
the burden
in crashing,
pulsing waves
of pretended ignorance
real ignorance
drunken revelry
and sober revelry
killing brain cells
either way
eventually
that sin is
but a dim
red heat
ever seeking
an escape from
the prison we have
placed it in
the light
finding cracks
in your walls
until we hastily
mix the cement
of dissent
and corruption
and wait
impatiently
for it’s permanence
to settle in
our minds
pausing
waiting for another
shooting pain,
relaxing when
it doesn’t come
it always shocks
when it comes
a photo
a book
a quote
the walls tumble
the dam breaks
and down we fall
we regain control
and eventually
the red hot
burns dim and
soft and
hardly hurts
anymore
and finally
that emptiness
that reality
becomes
null
naught
history
and we forget
even five years
later
** In retrospect, I was in a little bit of a pensive, melancholy mood. The poem is a bit melodramatic and maybe not helpful, but I read the post, thought of the poem, and had to go dig it up out of an old notebook to share.
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