Crash.
Boom.
News reporters speaking in their shaken tone.
Mothers weeping for their husbands trapped within the tower.
Frozen-my whole body  QUAkes with fear.
A clammy hand grips mine and drags me, about ten blocks away.
The deep, unfamiliar voice utters, “Stay here….I’ll be back. Don’t move.”
I do as I am instructed because without my sight I cannot navigate the streets of New York.
As I scoot myself backward I feel a frigid brick wall behind me and I lean against it.

Sirens.
Cries.
Screams.
My body is frozen because I cannot fathom hearing the chaos around me.
“A plane…” a woman uttered, while trying to catch her breath.
“Hijacked…” a man yelled into his cell phone.
“They’re jumping?” a child questioned with confusion in his voice.
My desire to investigate is halted by my conscious reminding me that without a guide I’m too vulnerable.

A PLANE.
HIJACKED.
JUMPING.

Only now do I truly wish to have the gift of sight,
so that I can assist someone, instead of me being assisted.

Alone.
Four hours have gone by, fading like the sound of sirens zooming down the street, and still NOTHING.
I have yet to be accompanied by anyone and I am left here.
The feel dust, tears, and debris saturating my body.
The sounds of sirens, news reporters, and mothers reverberate through my head.

            I sit in the drafty alley waiting as time tick, tick, tocks by, waiting for sanity, waiting for peace, waiting for light.