Nine-Eleven
by Casey Jepson
© 2001

The sun rose in the morning like it always had
The people got up and went their ways
Expecting their troubles but nothing so bad
As if they were seeing the end of the days
They poured in the tower and took their places
The sun shone through windows declaring the morning
They smiled at each other, knowing the faces
With not so much as a siren as a warning

No bomb from the ground nor quake from below
But terror rained down from the cloudless skies
The work of madmen from where hatred did sow
As every good child of God raised their eyes
They heard people crying, they saw people dying
They were people running to see who did live
Amongst them were many who did all in trying
To quell the chaos; their hearts they did give

But time flows like a river, it flows again
And all eyes beheld the repeat of disaster
For no one expected the first fateful plane
And none could prepare when the second came after
They poured out of the lobby, yet fewer they were
Than went in that morning, early in September
Those few were above where the danger did tear
Yet those few are many whom we strive to remember

Yet the fires of Hell burned fast and with fury
The towers that towered above all in sight
Were gone in mere instants, in desparate flurry
Of the dust of the dead that coated all in night
The world was quiet, the smoke was blinding
Survivors were sought, but few could be found
For weeks no one quit the chance of just finding
A few moving souls in the heap of the ground

The men driving red, wearing badges with numbers
Led the world in hope of protecting our land
Followed fighter and farmer, priest, painter and plumber
To lift up a candle from their sod-covered hands
This is not the end, but a dreary beginning
Of a battle of hope against hate and injust
But let us not measure in losing or winning
But rather in love, in gift, and in trust

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