It seems like just yesterday that the date – September 11 – was branded to the heart of our nation.  We panicked – we fell – we grieved – we cried.

I can remember that day so vividly.  I was in freshmen P.E. class at Francis Howell Central High School, when a voice came over the intercom and told us about a terrorist attack in New York City, and that classes were being dismissed.   I hurried off the bus and was relieved to find my brother home – with Grandma Sarah and Uncle Willie – but I also recall being incredibly anxious while we waited for my Mom. I didn’t know what was going on – it all happened so fast.  I was scared, like everyone.

We rose.  Our spirit’s stronger now.

This same day, six years after the towers fell, my family and I lost “our hummingbird,” my Grandma Sarah.  I tried to write her a poem – but the words wouldn’t come – and when I put the pen to paper (at 2:00 a.m.) this was the result:

Sometimes there are no words to describe how we feel.  For me this is true every time I create a piece of art.  It’s simple.  It’s peaceful.  It’s joyous – and I feel like it celebrates her spirit.  R.I.P. Grandma Sarah – and thanks for always looking out for me.

“Years ago a bird did fly, when She was called to Morning’s sky.” – Bobby James