Regarding 9-11 (written shortly after the attacks)

I watched in abject horror
As the second tower was struck
I stared, not wanting to believe
As terror ran amok;
As people ran ghostlike
Covered in dust and debris, then
In a parting of the clouds
I spied Liberty.
She stood amongst the confusion
Of dust and fire and smoke
And in that vital moment,
I knew that there was Hope.
As broadcasters continued
The reports that came
Said the Pentagon had been struck
By a third hijacked plane
And a fourth had been taken
But the passengers were made aware
And struggled against the attackers
And thus the jet crashed where
In a field in Pennsylvania
Far from its intended goal
Its remains to me were a symbol
Of our nation's gaping hole.
And of the hours and days that followed
So many images come to mind
Of heroes sifting through rubble
Searching for those left behind;
Of the rescuers who ran in
While others rushed out--
Of raising flags over the smoking ruins
To show our pride and clearly shout
You may have brought down our buildings
But you have failed in your ultimate goal
For although we are wounded and bleeding
At the core we remain whole.
You can kick us; you can wound us;
You can sting our national pride
You can kill us; you can insult us-
But you cannot make us hide.
We are America
Home of the Brave, Land of the Free
We struggle now but we will survive
This, the Home of Liberty!
While bricks and steel may crumble
And bodies may bleed and die
America will continue to go on
We will hold our heads up high.
The loss of lives is awesome
And grievous that's true
But still flying above us
Is the Red, the White, and the Blue
And Liberty, through the rubble
Casts her Light across the Land
Yet should her Torch ever go out
United we still stand.
We are more than our symbols;
More than buildings tall;
We are a Nation of Promise
And no terrorists will make US fall.

A Thought on Terrorism

In the name of Peace and Love
We sentence you to die
This is not a new idea
Yet we wonder why
A terrorist canuse religion
To explain away his deeds
To justify his hatred of us
And his murderous needs
It will never make sense
Using God to justify hate
Or vengence in the name of religion
To kill and call it Fate

Haunted

Of course there are ghosts
There are remnants of the dead which remain
We hold them to us
As a blessing or a curse
We play the images they helped us to create
In our minds.
Those memories are bittersweet
Pictures of good times and bad
Yet they can play forever in our minds
Messages of joy & comfort; of anger; of punishment...
We look at who we are and we see Them
In the self-image they helped to create
We'll remember the ways they looked at us
And we'll cringe, cry, or smile
We'll hear the way they thought of us--and themselves
Accepting or rejecting their hate or love
These are the elements of the dead that remain
The living create the ghosts.