This poem was not going to be written. After 9/11, I knew that there would be a plethera of poems written. No need to add to the pile. After watching a documentary filled with visual remnants of history I witnessed live on national television, I realized that my perception was unique and that it was necessary that I pen my thoughts.
1
Long ago,
just yesterday,
live on the breakroom TV,
outsiders poked a hole
in our secure way of life.
2
Lives were lost,
confidences shaken;
agencies formed,
privacy taken.
3
And life as we know it
changed.
4
Weep for the victims
not knowing—
how could they know?
that they were someone’s enemy
marked for death,
innocent or guilty,
unprepared
to put in order things left undone:
afraid, brave,
lost, found—
a thousand stories in two hundred and twenty,
one-fifth of five,
and in the air;
all memorialized in silent speeches
shouted from the rooftops.
5
Weep for the families and friends
not knowing,
wanting to know,
not wanting to know;
passing out pictures of missing,
still missing their faces;
praying to a God they know
or don’t know
or never thought about knowing
until now;
questioning
(can we presume to know?);
breathless,
hearts barely beating,
bloated with blood;
searing pain hotter than flaming fuel,
heavier than crushed concrete.
6
Weep for the heroes
not knowing, yet knowing.
Relentless in their efforts
and hopes
of pulling
even one single, solitary
life
from the heap
of arms and legs
and twisted pickup sticks of steel
and buckets of scrap.
7
Weep for generations to come
not knowing nor comprehending
a federal holiday celebrated
with a day off from work,
picnics, and beer;
the impact on those who
watched
in the streets;
stood
in front of televisions for hours
unproductive, unbelieving, not knowing
what collapsed that day.
8
Weep for the misled and deceived,
not knowing, unknown;
fearful pawns
expecting lasting peace
with violence,
afraid to believe the truth,
blinded by centuries of hate
and vengeance
that does not belong to them;
executing kamikaze heroism.
9
Weep for the misleaders,
not knowing or caring to know
because they know
and are certain
beyond their darkened shadow
of doubt
that God sanctions
and demands their sin;
blind leaders of blind—
the bin Ladens, Husseins, McVeighs.
Weep
that they should be,
that they are—
warped and twisted humanity
bent against humanity;
Freewill misused
for a god, for a nation, for self.
10
Weep for yourself.
And know…
know.
Know love, compassion, mercy;
know tomorrow never comes,
yesterday is gone,
and all the other cliches
are true.
Know yourself.
Know others.
Know God.
11
Dust rained,
Darkness fell,
A light glowed in the smoke.
The hole will be filled,
A day will be marked,
And the second law of thermodynamics will continue.
Long ago,
just yesterday,
live on the breakroom TV,
outsiders poked a hole
in our secure way of life.
2
Lives were lost,
confidences shaken;
agencies formed,
privacy taken.
3
And life as we know it
changed.
4
Weep for the victims
not knowing—
how could they know?
that they were someone’s enemy
marked for death,
innocent or guilty,
unprepared
to put in order things left undone:
afraid, brave,
lost, found—
a thousand stories in two hundred and twenty,
one-fifth of five,
and in the air;
all memorialized in silent speeches
shouted from the rooftops.
5
Weep for the families and friends
not knowing,
wanting to know,
not wanting to know;
passing out pictures of missing,
still missing their faces;
praying to a God they know
or don’t know
or never thought about knowing
until now;
questioning
(can we presume to know?);
breathless,
hearts barely beating,
bloated with blood;
searing pain hotter than flaming fuel,
heavier than crushed concrete.
6
Weep for the heroes
not knowing, yet knowing.
Relentless in their efforts
and hopes
of pulling
even one single, solitary
life
from the heap
of arms and legs
and twisted pickup sticks of steel
and buckets of scrap.
7
Weep for generations to come
not knowing nor comprehending
a federal holiday celebrated
with a day off from work,
picnics, and beer;
the impact on those who
watched
in the streets;
stood
in front of televisions for hours
unproductive, unbelieving, not knowing
what collapsed that day.
8
Weep for the misled and deceived,
not knowing, unknown;
fearful pawns
expecting lasting peace
with violence,
afraid to believe the truth,
blinded by centuries of hate
and vengeance
that does not belong to them;
executing kamikaze heroism.
9
Weep for the misleaders,
not knowing or caring to know
because they know
and are certain
beyond their darkened shadow
of doubt
that God sanctions
and demands their sin;
blind leaders of blind—
the bin Ladens, Husseins, McVeighs.
Weep
that they should be,
that they are—
warped and twisted humanity
bent against humanity;
Freewill misused
for a god, for a nation, for self.
10
Weep for yourself.
And know…
know.
Know love, compassion, mercy;
know tomorrow never comes,
yesterday is gone,
and all the other cliches
are true.
Know yourself.
Know others.
Know God.
11
Dust rained,
Darkness fell,
A light glowed in the smoke.
The hole will be filled,
A day will be marked,
And the second law of thermodynamics will continue.
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