Long Dedicationlost Poems
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There is pain in the city today Lord
tears came with the morning wind
I’m down on my knees
searching for my brothers and my sisters
promises of forever changed forever within moments
let the mercy begin
Dreams of tomorrow are now yesterday’s memories
families lost with strangers...life lost with innocence
kiss them softly for they have suffered
protect them all from harm’s way
and let them be forever warm
let the mercy begin
Planes flew in the sky right through to heaven’s gate
a nations strength resolved from the dust of towers
the price of freedom paid for in full on a country field
fortress warriors taken without quarter
lay each one of them so softly and gently down
let the mercy begin
A choir of heroes each one a protector of life
men and women who answered every plea for help
brave comrades falling in the flames as many to save the few
let their heartbeats become heaven’s eternal sweet symphony
allow our lives to be a reflection of their true courage and spirit
let the mercy begin
Our distance apart is now but a breath of time
to find one another…simply reach to the sun
in the sound of a child’s laughter
and when I yearn for the gentleness of their touch
I will need only to hold a butterfly in my hands
let the mercy begin
IRISH
Dedicated to the New York City Fire Department
Written in Chicago, Sept 12th, 2001
The beams of light shimmer as they fall onto the rocks
The grass bends to touch the memory of one long forgotten
Trees in the distance sing with the breeze as angels fly by
Whispering leaves pass over the field to make sure everything is all right
The silent moan of the lost voices is deafening to open ears
Decaying tears fall for the ache of longing for life only six feet away
Wives of servants and servants of men…Paid in full
In hollow darkness they lie with eternal smiles, though they will never feel the sun again
Blood spilt, bodies broken, sons lost, women widowed, they have achieved their goal
They sacrificed everything and lost it, only for the gain of the future, with no care of
compensation
They lie in sleep, void now of all pain. They rest in the endless ocean of white
Passing in their cars with thoughtless of whom they disrespect
A family comes to a stop and watches an elderly man stand with his hand to his brow
With no tears left to give, he grieves with a sigh that only his fallen men can hear.
The little girl of the man watching asks, "Daddy, why is he doing that?"
The man says with tears gently streaming down his face
"Sweetie, he's showing all the soldiers who are buried here respect."
"One way or another, you're a martyr…
In Arlington…”
In diminishing degrees of denial and doubt,
I find myself taking inventory of emotional stock
to scan it for inconsistencies:
Let's see...
Right now I feel…
Confused, scared, angry, vengeful, murderous, and demonic.
Yet also…
Calm, peaceful, nurturing, merciful, caring, reassuring, and reassured.
Who am I to follow the yellow brick road
that lights the way out of Oz? (my Wizard seems so far away…)
Who am I to question the path it leads me on?
These strange and unpredictable twists and turns,
tramples and tumbles,
ups and downs,
highs and lows…
I’m just a lost and lonely soul hoping to reconcile
the light and dark,
the white and black.
the generosity and greed
the spirit and flesh.
Yet I only end up compromising my deepest held beliefs
in the hopes that I may live a normal life
and carry on normal conversations
in a world that is everything
but normal.
Full of lost and lonely souls, who like me,
only seek an understanding shoulder to cry on,
that could lessen this tremendous burden,
lighten this harrowing load,
and offer true direction
towards a lighter shade of gray.
The devil cruised down,
To New Orleans,La,
With plan in his heart,
From the Broussards part,
He claimed alot of souls,
With temptation of a plan,
One very unholy,
Sinful lawbreaking scam,
One offering money to those who would join,
A serious deception created,
From his hand,
If you went for the money,
For the love of it,
You lost your soul,
Because of it,
If it was because they scared,
You into it,
You got a reprive because,
Of it,
If you chose to hurt,
Me and my kids on purpose,
You lost your soul,
And all contol of it,
God doesn't do that just for me,
He would do it for anyone,
Whose been put through unbelievable,
Pain and misery,
When a good person is outnumbered,
By an evil amount,
God goes to bat,
And you better watch out,
A good soul and family,
Outnumbered by alot,
Has God batting a thousand,
Turnabouts for all who fudgged up,
People determined to keep doing wrong,
By this little woman and children,
Will not be singing any song.
Though in tears and torment…I have got a terrible tale to tell
About that dreadful day that our trade tower flared and fell;
Oh the pains felt by dreaded dads, mourning moms and the youth that yell
For they lost their loved ones to that horrible day…so hot as hell
If was an evil event that took flight, just like a flash
A violent man with his cruel aircraft turned the trade tower to a trash
I could hear the crash, the sirens and people crying in a bash
Even my humble hut in Africa felt the pain of this lethal lash
What a dreadful day was two thousand and one, nine, eleven
Who would have thought or trade tower could be crushed into a coven
That led kids and kings, kith and kin from various kindred to heaven
My prayer is that all those who lost their lives would find a safe haven