Explore "When God Happens" by Mike Rosen
The poem below got my attention because of the title, "When God Happens". As you begin reading this poem you instantly know or should have an idea of what this poem is about. The title doesn't really give an idea of what the poem is about,but as you have to start reading it to figure out what the meaning behind the title is. This poem is a very touching and meaningful poem. I hope after you read this poem you will enjoy it as much as I did.
When God Happens
Before the towers collapsed into a white noise
of bodies and strewn paper,
there were people in the windows. They clutched family photos
and they jumped, became human tombstones
falling into the shrapnel of a city covered
in the ash of its own citizens,
a city shapeless and somewhere else, writhing as it fell.
That night, I feared everything but darkness,
so I slept on the floor at the foot of my father's bed --
it's a place where monsters and planes are made easy work of.
That morning, I went to the window, I wiped my hand along the sill,
I watched my fingers turn grey and I thought: "bodies."
But I didn't want to wash them, I wanted to go to the roof, I did.
I saw the smoke crawling into a postcard, the smell was everywhere.
I wondered if they would change the postcards now,
put smoke where once were towers, and then address them to our relatives
in Texas and Carolina where they were rearing to go to war
and say I wish, I wish you were here.
I wish you could see these clouds forming under the clouds
I wish you could touch this smell with your nostrils every time you breathe
I wish you could run your hand along your window and wonder
how the bodies got through the door
and see what it's like to live in the most Beverly Hills version of a warzone
and realize what war might just look like, feel like,
taste like, in your breakfast cereal,
when you realize you're sitting there digging Cheerios out of a bowl
when they're digging bodies out of the ground.
That day was not about your god or their god
because when God happens, no one is right.
These were times when we lied to our children.
When you lie to children, no one is right.
I can’t make this any clearer to you. That day had no black or white,
‘cause under that rubble everyone was grey.
Under that rubble was no red, whites, or blue.
Under that rubble was just grey.
Now I know New Yorkers, we talk a lot --- sorry!
But I'm taking this one back for my home
because under that rubble was not your country,
under that rubble was our city, our town,
our mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, and daughters.
That day, no one in New York grabbed rifles,
we grabbed bandanas and shovels and we started digging
because our lives were underneath that rubble
and the firemen were looking for the bodies.
It has been ten years, and my friend is still looking for her father's body
Your war is not helping her find him.
Your war has done nothing but add to the list of little boys like me,
who wish to sleep at the feet of their father's beds.
My father worked nowhere near the Trade Center, but I didn't know that then.
What I knew was that the phone lines were down
and that until I heard his voice, so was he.
Your war has done nothing but add to the list of boys
in New York, in Iraq, in Afghanistan
The list of boys who are still waiting
for their fathers to come home.
of bodies and strewn paper,
there were people in the windows. They clutched family photos
and they jumped, became human tombstones
falling into the shrapnel of a city covered
in the ash of its own citizens,
a city shapeless and somewhere else, writhing as it fell.
That night, I feared everything but darkness,
so I slept on the floor at the foot of my father's bed --
it's a place where monsters and planes are made easy work of.
That morning, I went to the window, I wiped my hand along the sill,
I watched my fingers turn grey and I thought: "bodies."
But I didn't want to wash them, I wanted to go to the roof, I did.
I saw the smoke crawling into a postcard, the smell was everywhere.
I wondered if they would change the postcards now,
put smoke where once were towers, and then address them to our relatives
in Texas and Carolina where they were rearing to go to war
and say I wish, I wish you were here.
I wish you could see these clouds forming under the clouds
I wish you could touch this smell with your nostrils every time you breathe
I wish you could run your hand along your window and wonder
how the bodies got through the door
and see what it's like to live in the most Beverly Hills version of a warzone
and realize what war might just look like, feel like,
taste like, in your breakfast cereal,
when you realize you're sitting there digging Cheerios out of a bowl
when they're digging bodies out of the ground.
That day was not about your god or their god
because when God happens, no one is right.
These were times when we lied to our children.
When you lie to children, no one is right.
I can’t make this any clearer to you. That day had no black or white,
‘cause under that rubble everyone was grey.
Under that rubble was no red, whites, or blue.
Under that rubble was just grey.
Now I know New Yorkers, we talk a lot --- sorry!
But I'm taking this one back for my home
because under that rubble was not your country,
under that rubble was our city, our town,
our mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons, and daughters.
That day, no one in New York grabbed rifles,
we grabbed bandanas and shovels and we started digging
because our lives were underneath that rubble
and the firemen were looking for the bodies.
It has been ten years, and my friend is still looking for her father's body
Your war is not helping her find him.
Your war has done nothing but add to the list of little boys like me,
who wish to sleep at the feet of their father's beds.
My father worked nowhere near the Trade Center, but I didn't know that then.
What I knew was that the phone lines were down
and that until I heard his voice, so was he.
Your war has done nothing but add to the list of boys
in New York, in Iraq, in Afghanistan
The list of boys who are still waiting
for their fathers to come home.
Poem Citation: http://poetry.rapgenius.com/Mike-rosen-when-god-happens-lyrics
Image Citation: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2011/09/pictures/110908-about-911-september-9-11-twin-world-trade-center-towers-indelible/#/september-9-11-attacks-anniversary-ground-zero-world-trade-center-pentagon-flight-93-second-airplane-wtc_39997_600x450.jpg
Image Citation: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2011/09/pictures/110908-about-911-september-9-11-twin-world-trade-center-towers-indelible/#/september-9-11-attacks-anniversary-ground-zero-world-trade-center-pentagon-flight-93-second-airplane-wtc_39997_600x450.jpg
My Writer's Notebook Response:
The most powerful and strongest slam poem I've read.
I wasn't there to witness the event, nor was I really old enough to remember what had happened, but growing up, I've learned more and more about 9/11 as time went on. I didn't experience this tragic situation up close and front, not a lot of us did, but many others had.On this day the terrorist that attacked us changed the lives of all Americans. September 11,2001 day was a day when a lot of innocent people lost their lives and even loved ones. The planes were taken over and the massacre had began. Bits an pieces of the walls began to crumble, while the planes made their way inside. The Twin Towers began to collapse , while people began losing their lives. This day opened the eyes of everyone around the world to know anything could happen at anytime. 9/11 only began a way between two countries, and for what? Honestly, nothing. This day proved nothing, only selfishness.
Every year we all remember what occurred that day, many years ago. Even a moment of silence is taken to remember those who lost their lives. This day will never be a day we don't remember in the future.
"When God Happens" by Mike Rosen is a very inspirational poem. I chose this poem to share with all of you because I will never remember the day and anything that actually happened, besides the memories people will tell me. This poem allowed me to be able to have another point of view of someone that was there and had gone through this up close. Mike has allowed anyone who reads this poem to have more of an idea of this day. He is also very truthful in his writing and he uses great imagery. This piece of writing is absolutely wonderful.
This poem has really touched me and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. My favorite line from this poem is
"They clutched family photos
and they jumped, became human tombstones
falling into the shrapnel of a city covered
in the ash of its own citizens,
a city shapeless and somewhere else, writhing as it fell."
What is your favorite line from this poem? Please share and enjoy.
I wasn't there to witness the event, nor was I really old enough to remember what had happened, but growing up, I've learned more and more about 9/11 as time went on. I didn't experience this tragic situation up close and front, not a lot of us did, but many others had.On this day the terrorist that attacked us changed the lives of all Americans. September 11,2001 day was a day when a lot of innocent people lost their lives and even loved ones. The planes were taken over and the massacre had began. Bits an pieces of the walls began to crumble, while the planes made their way inside. The Twin Towers began to collapse , while people began losing their lives. This day opened the eyes of everyone around the world to know anything could happen at anytime. 9/11 only began a way between two countries, and for what? Honestly, nothing. This day proved nothing, only selfishness.
Every year we all remember what occurred that day, many years ago. Even a moment of silence is taken to remember those who lost their lives. This day will never be a day we don't remember in the future.
"When God Happens" by Mike Rosen is a very inspirational poem. I chose this poem to share with all of you because I will never remember the day and anything that actually happened, besides the memories people will tell me. This poem allowed me to be able to have another point of view of someone that was there and had gone through this up close. Mike has allowed anyone who reads this poem to have more of an idea of this day. He is also very truthful in his writing and he uses great imagery. This piece of writing is absolutely wonderful.
This poem has really touched me and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. My favorite line from this poem is
"They clutched family photos
and they jumped, became human tombstones
falling into the shrapnel of a city covered
in the ash of its own citizens,
a city shapeless and somewhere else, writhing as it fell."
What is your favorite line from this poem? Please share and enjoy.