The Attack

It was a day that began like other days,

with warm sunshine and a clear blue sky,

when hatred came to town;

A sound of engines low in the sky,

a crash of glass and steel,

a red orange burst of fire,

and thick black oily smoke.

Shock and disbelief as other crash landings occur near and far,

frantic phone calls of "goodbye" and "I love you",

the pounding of footsteps down staircases,

down, down and down,

run, run, get out while you can!

The sound of sirens on the streets below,

and who can believe this?

why is this happening?

Who would do such a thing?

The unbelieveable follows the unthinkable;

a lurch, a rumble, and down comes a towering mass followed by another.

Up comes a billowing gray cloud of dust

covering everything in every direction.

can't see, can't breathe, must run,

where am I going?

What is happening? Why? Tell me why!



They were the first to Arrive;

Fire fighters, police officers and ambulance attendants

moving steadily toward danger

"We must get these people out!"

they were heard to say,

and later, after the towers fell,

"we lost so many brothers that day."

Others came in greater numbers;

rescue workers, construction workers,

military personnel, doctors, nurses and volunteers

joined the ranks to treat the injured, mourn the dead,

and sift through the rubble of despair.

With their actions, the heroes say,

"We do this work because we can and because we must.

It is our duty and our honor to serve."



Girders are dismantled,

sections of buildings are carefully inspected,

workers search for survivors, remains, mementos.

the work becomes a plea and a prayer;

Be with me O Greater power,

stand with with me and work with me.

Put my hands to the work,

put my shoulders to the heavy load,

and when I am told to rest from my labors,

sit with me, hold my hand,

and tell that we will live through this,

that we will prevail.



Voices are heard in gathering crowds;

"where is daddy? when is mommy coming home?

can I talk to daddy in heaven on the telephone?"

"where is my partner, my lover, my friend?

where is the one who makes my life worth living?"

"where is my daughter? where is my son?

where is my hope for the future?"

How many times do you say the words "I love you" to a photograph?

How many times do say the words "I miss you"

in a place that feels achingly empty?



Celbrities and dignitaries stand on stages,

at podiums, before cameras and microphones

and say, "We must not forget."

Survivors, loved ones and workers on site

turn their somber faces with hard eyes

to the cameras and microphones

and say, "We cannot forget."



How shall we honor the missing and the dead?

A park? New Buildings?

A plaque mounted on a monument?

let us remember their faces and voices

in the hope that we, the living,

may honor their sacrifice

and learn by their example

to become a better people.