All the anger in me has been bled. So too the jingoistic rush, the fierce urgency of nationalism that the events of ten years ago engendered. All that remains today is sorrow. Sorrow for our loss of innocents, and the loss of our innocence. Sorrow for the further losses of our young men and women who volunteered in the pure white heat of anger to take our response to their shores… whoever they were, and wherever that might lead them.
Ten years ago today I was glued to my television, witness to history and the awful, unfolding events of the day. Today… I’m tuning out. I might wish today’s commemorations would do more than mourn our losses, individual and collective. I might hope we could search for wisdom in the rubble of our ruins, rather than sow anger and fear anew. But that’s not good television, is it?