I wake up at 5AM.
September means work, not play.
My alarm is loud and I’m off to school,
just like any other day.
The engine roars as I turn the key.
My books fall to the floor.
“Oh, It’s just Writing and History…
Who needs those anymore?”
When I turn the radio on,
I switch to NPR.
I go to school with tears in my eyes
and sloppily park the car.
I run into class. The news is on.
I sit down and take a look.
That is when I realize
I am living my history book.
My life is put on hold,
as I watch those towers twin.
My teachers don’t even ask me
to turn my homework in.
The dark smoke
ascending into the sky
should be a black and white photo
on page 95.
But it’s not!
It’s Live, and in full HD.
I’m watching it happen,
helplessly.
I’ve learned about our History.
I’ve studied the acts of war.
I feel naive
cause I’d supposed
it didn’t happen anymore.
I see my teacher’s uncertainty
and I’ll always remember his look.
I’ll never forget, that morning… that day…
When I lived my history book.
