1979. June. Morning.
Renee Katz not yet 18
is underground
about to be pushed
about to lose her left hand
about to lose her ability
to ever again think
of putting two hands to piano keys
of lifting flute to mouth
and making music.
A subway, a hand on
the tracks, the slicing
of the fine motor
skills she will never have
again, and the only suspect
acquitted leaves the attacker
out there
and his movement
with dexterity beyond
50th Street and 8th Avenue
is even harder to imagine
until it happens
again,
the shove to the tracks.
2012. December 3. 49th Street.
Ki-Suck Han this time a man
also a person from Queens
also in the path of a train
that will not be stopped
the instant you see already too late.
In the path of a train
is the cycling
of what you cannot take
your eyes from
even as all that is familiar
— marriage a child's birth divorce
new love a job —
reminds you that not like Han you are
alive
and what you do now is listen
to the music
rising not from hands denied
the touch of black-and-white keys
but from your breath escaping
refusing the silence
not stopping
the riding of a train
going underground
the letting go of anger grief regret hope
even love
from lifting a Hanukkah candle
shimmering for the miracle.
© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas
___________________________________
This poem is inspired Clyde Haberman's City Room post "Not Silenced, 33 Years After Her Own Subway Nightmare", The New York Times, December 10, 2012.
Below is an audio recording of the poem:
Below is an audio recording of the poem:
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5 comments:
Thank you for sharing, Maureen!
Oh, my goodness. What a story. Thank you for honoring it with your poem.
We heard of this tragic event here -- thank you for sharing it so eloquently and with such heart.
Really makes you think about what matters in life....this is a moving post Maureen!
I love what you've done with this story (it's heartbreaking).
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