My birthday is on 9/11.

It is a dreadful day.

I used to love to party,

my personal holiday.

I would take time off

to go out of town.

But, in 2001

everything turned around.

I was in Chicago

to go Wrigley Field.

Reds versus Cubs

but my fate was sealed.

Like all people 

I was horrified and scared. 

And my father only lived

7 miles from there.

Trying to get a call

through was not happening.

Having no communication

was maddening.

I intellectually understood

but, emotionally a wreck.

All I wanted 

was a welfare check.

Finally in the evening

his phone began to ring. 

My father picked up

my heart began to sing.

Knowing he was safe

was a gift to me.

For many other people,

that would not be.  

My birthday is on 9/11.

It is a dreadful day.

Not celebrating is fine.

All I lost was a holiday.​​​​​​​