To the Towers Themselves (Anonymous)

They were never the favorites,
Not the Carmen Miranda Chrysler
Nor Rockefeller’s magic boxes
Nor the Empire, which I think would have killed us all if she fell.

They were the two young dumb guys,
Beer drinking
Downtown MBA’s
Swaggering across the skyline,
Not too bright.

Now that they are gone,
They are like young men
Lost at war,
Not having had their life yet,
Not having grown wise and softened with air and time.

They are lost like
Cannon fodder
Like farm boys throughout time
Stunned into death,
Not knowing what hit them
And beloved
By the weeping mothers left behind.

Anonymous poem cleaned up by the NYC Parks Department, probably from around Union Square

How My Life Has Changed (Hilary North)

I can no longer flirt with Lou.
I can no longer dance with Mayra.
I can no longer eat brownies with Suzanne Y.
I can no longer meet the deadline with Mark.
I can no longer talk to George about his daughter.
I can no longer drink coffee with Rich.
I can no longer make a good impression on Chris.
I can no longer smile at Paul L.
I can no longer confide in Lisa.
I can no longer work on a project with Donna R.
I can no longer get to know Yolanda.
I can no longer call the client with Nick.
I can no longer contribute to the book drive organized by Karen.
I can no longer hang out with Millie.
I can no longer give career advice to Suzanne P.
I can no longer laugh with Donna G.
I can no longer watch Mary Ellen cut through the bull.
I can no longer drink beer with Paul B.
I can no longer have a meeting with Dave W.
I can no longer leave a message with Andrea.
I can no longer gossip with Anna.
I can no longer run into Dave P. at the vending machine.
I can no longer call Steve about my computer.
I can no longer compliment Lorenzo.
I can no longer hear Herman’s voice.
I can no longer trade voice mails with Norman.
I can no longer ride the elevator with Barbara.
I can no longer say hello to Steven every morning.
I can no longer see the incredible view from the 103rd Floor of the South Tower.
I can no longer take my life for granted.

from don’t look for me anymore (Alicia Vasquez)

don’t look for me anymore
it’s late and you are tired
your feet ache standing atop the ruins of our twins
day after day searching for a trace of me
your eyes are burning red
your hands cut bleeding sifting through rock
and your back crooked from endless hours of labor…

it’s my turn, I’m worried about you
watching as you sift through the ruins of what was
day after day in the soot and the rain
I ache in knowing you suffer my death

rest in knowing that my blood lies in the cracks and crevices
of these great lands I loved so much…

don’t look for me anymore
hold my children as I would
hold my brothers and sisters for me
since I can’t bring them up with the same
love you gave me
and I’ll rest assured
you’re watching my children

don’t look for me anymore
go home and rest…

Signed A. Vasquez, found on 9/14/01 on the “Wailing Wall” at Grand Central Station