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Flora Marie Gabrielle Cusumano Writer

The web site contains the thoughts, essays, poetry, and literature created by Flora Cusumano, Flora Marie Cusumano and of the pen name Gabrielle Cusumano, or Gabrielle Flora Marie Cusumano. Also included are journalistic references to news items with commentary and opinion pieces by Flora Marie Gabrielle Cusumano and under the pen name of Gabrielle Flora Marie Cusumano

Friday, January 14, 2005

Waiting for provocation to serious thought and writing of literature.

Have for some months now been living under unusual circumstances and therefore have not had the time or access to information that has provoked me in the past to be moved to write from my heart and mind, literature or an examination of current events and contemporary politics.

I have had specific news articles in mind to contemplate and analyze but have not had the time to sit down and expand the thoughts on paper.

Do not have access to much of what I have written in the past with the exception of this letter and piece of prose. I believe it says much of the survivors of those who perished on September 11th and of our nation.


September 15, 2003

N,

Should have remarked that the first paragraph of the written prose was what I found interesting. The other paragraphs lose something that was seemingly powerful in the first writing. Wrote you what was in my notebook dated Sept 10, 2003 verbatim.  Here it is reworked, though those same paragraphs still don't feel right.

Survivors and Nation
 
"Like threads woven into a piece of fabric, we are a nation of extraordinary people. Though slashed and ripped, torn and scorched, every fiber holds fast at some point to another, entwined, enmeshed, single strands, though hanging severed apart, are still attached, attached by a thread to others of a greater whole, not of what was, but of what is."
 
"The living spoke in bittersweet tones, of youth and dreams, of loss and of found. They are the loose ends and they wonder why. No one anywhere knows why. Reason is not there or in the here and now. One of those living threads said as though reciting a creed, "When people are running out of burning buildings, firemen run in..."
 
"As woven but torn single threads who now forever remain, forget not to remember, to remember to look your loved one in his eyes, and tell him, tell him you love him, each and everyday you are alive. Yet forget not, to remember, to remember those fibers now threadbare, those who were torn apart amongst us,  and those torn away who were slain."