Twin Towers, Soaring High ©Nancy L. Meek September, 2003 The apple of our nation's eye, peeled t'ward a brighter dream gleaming, where eagles, free, surely fly with seeming ease in heaven's sky. Who could know the day would come we would see them crumble and fall the terror of the evil, the total sum, evoking disbelief from one and all? Who could have seen the signs on that serene September dawn a nation would change with the times, the war delivered to her own front lawn? As Lady Liberty gazed from the harbour, shrouded by smoke and billowing flames, the heart of a nation, with intense ardor, succombed to the heat of human games. Just for an instant, the world stood still with us, grieving, praying we would survive. Who could've believed our streets would fill with so many innocent no longer alive? Who could have known two years hence we'd send sons and daughters over the sea in a desperate attempt to quell the sense our future's not as bright as it used to be? Out of dire fear of what others might do, pre-emptive war became the plan of the day despite the fact it might tear us in two... like the towers...each with a different view. Twin Towers, soaring high... A lustrous vision in our nation's eye... steeled t'ward a brighter dream gleaming, when suddenly, from the sky the innocent leaped...and we began to cry. Who could have known the day would come nothing would seem to make any sense... the horrific events leaving everyone numb only to declare war in our own defense! What legacy are we destined to leave in the name of those who died that day trapped beneath the beams and debris, if it means mores lives will be taken away? Twin Towers, crashing down... "Pruned or disciplined?" We frown... each steered t'ward a growing pride, rising, where eagles, aloft, surely drown with seeming ease, a world upside-down. Who knows the day must surely come we all will stand before God's throne called to account for what each has done, with nowhere to hide, naked and alone! Who knows war only begets more war... an endless cycle of death and despair; Is this the solution...what we abhor? If there's to be no peace on earth, then where? Twin towers, soaring high... Embedded in our hearts, we will fight and die, eyes peeled still t'ward a brighter dream gleaming, where spirits, free, surely fly with seeming ease in heaven's sky. Graphic (minus doves) Courtesy of Steve Robertson

Where Was I September 11? ©Nancy L. Meek 02-17-03 Where was I, you ask... the morning the world cried? Well, I was just living my dream scanning charges for narcotics dispensed to our patients just wishing my day was over that is, until I heard the newsflash blaring from a patient's room as nurses, hands-over-mouths, gasped at our towers falling my mind flew to the infirmed soul on the bed humming some childhood tune an opiatic stupor saving him from knowing a nation's pain somber and sober what ignorant bliss, I mused as I reached the final page praying God would have mercy on those burning souls falling... wishing their day wasn't over

Silent Garden ©Nancy L. Meek 02-17-03 Often, in the course of human events, we must say a final farewell to the dead offer eulogies laced with such eloquence nothing better could ever be said; But what words are still left to be wrung from the hearts of those who survived? What sorrowful song has not been sung to express the horror still held inside? What words will ever be strong enough to express what our souls need to say? Is there any poem or speech long enough to make the hurt completely go away? Walking through fields where others bled we deal with our grief one day at a time yet, we may never know why they are dead in a world where nothing seems to rhyme. We sow our seeds in this garden, called life hoping they all will survive the storm that the sun, in its glory, will part the night with strong enough light to keep them warm. We cross our fingers and pray for rain but not too much, lest they all should drown. Cultivating is hard and the thorns bring pain but it's still worth it...when we look around. But seasoned gardeners know all too well some will wither and die on their stem or just blend with the earth where they fell as debris falls to finally cover them. It is not ours to know who'll live...or die. It is but ours to do the best we can. In love with our flowers, we must try To nurture the good seed given to man. Stop living in breast-thumping remorse, thinking if we'd only done this or done that, we might have changed history's course steered them from those heinous attacks. It is wrong to tell another, "Just get over it!" especially if you're not the tortured soul there dealing with the greater loss...so close to it, sorting through the clothes they used to wear. A whiff of his cologne...her hair on a brush... physical reminders of where they once trod. 'Tis not easy... feeling that sweet-awful rush... knowing your roses are now in the arms of God. What words, some ask, are still left to be wrung? Plenty indeed, I say, in this sweet and sour plot. In a silent garden, many songs are left unsung. They are there...buried forever beneath that lot! I weave these words, baring my soul to the world. For what good it does, I still struggle to know. All I know is: When I think of those roses unfurled, I choke, wondering, "Why did they have to go?" I still hear them calling...calling, softly and low. There is no silent garden for me, no solace to be found! Just for today, make them hush. Let the garden go! 'Tis a curse, no?..this empathy, killing without sound? Often, in the course of human events, we must say a final farewell to the dead; but I am convinced, for all good intents, such an adieu and my pen shall never wed! May God bless the innocent victims with Life and Love without cease now in the arms of the Rose of Sharon in Heaven's Garden of Eternal Peace

More Memorial Poems: "Silent Skies" "Flames in the Sky" "View from Ground Zero" "The Battle for Peace" "A Brighter Tomorrow" "Quiet Power" "Amazing Grace" "When September Morning Comes" "Labor of Love" E-mail Your Comments To: Lilripple@hotmail.com To Return Home, Click On Dove!

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