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Poem
the buildings gray stood grand and tall
      the proudest prize of man's bright call
         none dared to think that one might fall
   thus glist'ning in the sun
the perfect morning sun

      from cherished ground each tower rose
         with strength and structure, grandiose
   and steady through what nature blows
designer minds had wrought
      their best, or so we thought

         but some small men with missing parts
   brought caliphates with fits and starts
their twisted aims from twisted hearts
      would make examples, clear
         the things we held, so dear

   there wields no sharper blade or knife
than those which can't thus value life
      oh deep that wound of careless strife
         cut by an empty soul
   an empty, barren soul

they flew that morn from foreign lands
      these rotten souls, with hateful hands
         with peopled planes at their commands
   and hate their only cause
a beast with deadly claws

      one at-a-time straight 'head they flew
         'midst cloudless skies and vault of blue
   they stabbed their evil arrows through
the hearts of all mankind
      death's rattle left behind

         those towers melted, crumpled ... fell
   and brought a grief no one could quell
there on the news, straight out of hell
      that horror lay unfurled
         the weeping of a world

   two decades gone, the wounds remain
those birthed from promise gone insane
      lost catafalques, like tears through rain
         that make no earthly sense
   death smirks as God relents

please, teach our wee ones how it was
      that heav'n did laud such twisted cause
         and burned our bright and wondrous Oz
   with fire's heinous flash
turned wonder into ash

      how can it be that monsters, thus
         now wear a mask that looks like us?
   how can we learn, again, to trust?
still, from those ashes, then
      the grandest dreams of men ...

         through hope, can rise again.
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