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Friday, September 13

My Pal Jen's Amazing Poem

Normally I would never publish something someone else wrote on my web site, (mostly cause I have so ^%$#& much to say, there's no room for anyone else's point of view) but when my old, old, old gal pal Jen sent me this poem she wrote on September 11th of this year, I knew I'd have to share it with you'all.

Jen was my best friend freshman year in highschool. After school we lost touch. She moved to Chicago. I moved to NYC. She got married. I got not married.

Our lives were always different and they became more so, but something essential inside of us, something we recognized in each other when we were 14 years old, has always been the same.

I used to say we were sisters in deep-ness, but now I'd say simply that Jen and I always took things a notch or two further in than most people we knew. Sometimes that was good, well when it came to caring for others or writing poetry, sometimes it's been way bad.

Just ask anyone who has ever dated us, how fucking sensitive we are. They'll probably roll their eyes backwards and scream.

Yep. We're a tad.....delicate....

Anyway, this poem was written by my sister in deepness, Jennifer Weber-Zeller.

Thanks sis.


" Jenny's Poem "


So far away, unreachable, intangeable.
One moment concrete, veins, muscle
The next, a mountain of dust.

Permanence was gone,
Certainty was gone
Instead of towers
reaching for the heavens
It was we that reached,
Crying to the heavens

Instead of towers
Peering down into the depths of the metropolis
It was we who blinked
Peering into the inkish depths of man's hatred.

Today, debris is moved, shifted,
As have we.
In place of ruin lies a hole
In the ground and in ourselves.
A monument to the lost souls
A monument to our lost selves
Will rise in time.

Perhaps man is, indeed, a creature that may learn
Perhaps our children will be raised in love and curiousity
Not in hatred and fear of one another.

I doubt it; doubt it.
And yet, the crater quietly whispers on the winds.
A reminder, a cicatrice, a scar....