Aftermath

Oh, America… How lost your children are now. Their gut wrenched tears have formed many tidal waves, daring to smother the ground which your blood stained eagle circles above. Their throats scream from pain as they hear the surreal numbers  rise to a level so vast, It is beyond their comprehension. Their blood boils for the innocent swept from them in a tragedy that was so calculated and cold, it eludes all human sensibilities. Oh, America…. Your children need you now. The sudden brutal massacre has opened a wound in their hearts that even the passage of time will never heal completely. Take out your stars and stripes. Unfurl it to the wind of the aftermath. Give their eyes closed in mourning Cause to open and focus on you. Sound the song of your people, Reviving their parched, aching souls. So that they can unite to one voice that shouts to the hills.. “God Bless AMERICA!” America…. While you slowly fall to your knees You realize the true meaning of honor. Your children gather round you in unison To lift you up and hold your head high. Their dignity displays your vivid colors To let the rest of the world know that pride has no death in tragedy’s wake. It grows beyond it. Written September 22nd, 2001 © on Sep 22 2001 06:24 AM PST   0 • 9