Also see Patriotism.

I've Seen the Angels Cry

I have always thought that angels
wore halos and wings of white,
But now I find they wear hard hats
and black coats with yellow stripes.

And angels, in my mind, wore long
flowing gowns of white,
But now I see dark pants and shirts
and badges shining bright.

And angels always floated with
bare feet above the ground.
Not true! They wear steel-toe boots
and go where death is found.

Not all angels have smooth hands
that look like porcelain,
Some angels have torn gloves and
cuts and burns upon their skin.

And while I thought all angels
glowed from heavens light,
I see an angel cutting steel
his torch is shining bright.

And while these earthly angels
passed buckets of debris,
The angels up in heaven looked
down on bended knee.

So while the smoke continued
to rise into the sky,
I watched rescue workers weep.
I've seen the angels cry.


The Lady

(written after 9-11)

I wonder what she thought
As she stood there, strong and tall.
She couldn't turn away,
She was forced to watch it all.

Did she long to offer comfort
As her country bled?
With her arm forever frozen
High above her head.

She could not shield her eyes
She could not hide her face
She just stared across the water
Keeping Freedom's place.

The smell of smoke and terror
Somehow reduced her size
So small within the harbor
But still we recognized . . .

How dignified and beautiful
On a day so many died
I wonder what she thought,
And I know she must have cried.


One

As the soot and dirt and ash rained down,
We became one color.

As we carried each other down the
stairs of the burning building,
We became one class.

As we lit candles of waiting and hope,
We became one generation.

As the firefighters and police officers
fought their way into the inferno,
We became one gender.

As we fell to our knees
in prayer for strength,
We became one faith.

As we whispered or shouted
words of encouragement,
We spoke one language.

As we gave our blood in lines a mile long,
We became one body.

As we mourned together the great loss,
We became one family.

As we cried tears of grief and loss,
We became one soul.

As we retell with pride of
the sacrifice of heroes,
We become one people.

We are:
One color
One class
One generation
One gender
One faith
One language
One body
One family
One soul
One people

We are the Power of One.
We are United.
We are America.


The Binch

(SaxonDawg, September 13, 2001, based on The Grinch by Dr. Seuss)

Every U down in Uville liked U.S. a lot,
But the Binch, who lived Far East of Uville, did not.
The Binch hated U.S! the whole U.S. way!
Now don't ask me why, for nobody can say,
It could be his turban was screwed on too tight.
Or the sun from the desert had beaten too bright
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.

But, Whatever the reason, his heart or his turban,
He stood facing Uville, the part that was urban.
"They're doing their business," he snarled from his perch.
"They're raising their families! They're going to church!
They're leading the world, and their empire is thriving,
I MUST keep the S's and U's from surviving!"

Tomorrow, he knew, all the U's and the S's,
Would put on their pants and their shirts and their dresses,
They'd go to their offices, playgrounds and schools,
And abide by their U and S values and rules.

And then they'd do something he liked least of all,
Every U down in U-ville, the tall and the small,
Would stand all united, each U and each S,
And they'd sing Uville's anthem, "God bless us! God bless!"
All around their Twin Towers of Uville, they'd stand,
and their voices would drown every sound in the land.

"I must stop that singing," Binch said with a smirk,
And he had an idea--an idea that might work!
The Binch stole some U airplanes in U morning hours,
And crashed them right into the Uville Twin Towers.
"They'll wake to disaster!" he snickered, so sour,
"And how can they sing when they can't find a tower?"

The Binch cocked his ear as they woke from their sleeping,
All set to enjoy their U-wailing and weeping,
Instead he heard something that started quite low,
And it built up quite slow, but it started to grow--
And the Binch heard the most unpredictable thing . . .
And he couldn't believe it--they started to sing!

He stared down at U-ville, not trusting his eyes,
What he saw was a shocking, disgusting surprise!
Every U down in U-ville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any towers at all!
He HADN'T stopped U-Ville from singing! It sung!
For down deep in the hearts of the old and the young,
Those Twin Towers were standing, called Hope and called Pride,
And you can't smash the towers we hold deep inside.

So we circle the sites where our heroes did fall,
With a hand in each hand of the tall and the small,
And we mourn for our losses while knowing we'll cope,
For we still have inside that U-Pride and U-Hope.

For America means a bit more than tall towers,
It means more than wealth or political powers,
It's more than our enemies ever could guess,
So may God bless America! Bless us! God bless!


There are many great poems about 9/11 by Del 'Abe' Jones on the War Veterans' Poetry Archives.


Journaling About 9-11

(Teri Jackson)

Use these questions as prompts to write out the facts, and the thoughts, feelings, emotions you experienced during and in the days following the Tuesday tragedy.
Select from them what might help you tell the story of this time in our lives.
See also the abbreviated outline at the end, which may be easier for some to use.
The important thing is to capture on paper a record of your reactions before time dims our memories.

Another Approach:


Chronology of September 11

(times are Eastern Daylight Time)


Times Have Changed

In 2019 the 'politically correct' New York Times couldn't bring themselves to use the words 'Islamic terrorists' or even just 'terrorists' so this is what they tweeted on the anniversary of the 9-11 attacks "18 years have passed since airplanes took aim and brought down the World Trade Center." I guess they thought no one would notice, but many did and they quickly removed the tweet.


Peace Activist Etiquette

With all of this talk of impending war, many of us will encounter "Peace Activists" who will try and convince us that we must refrain from retaliating against the ones who terrorized us all on September 11, 2001, and those who support terror.
These activists may be alone or in a gathering and most of us don't know how to react to them. When you come upon one of these people, or one of their rallies, here are the proper rules of etiquette:

  1. Listen politely while this person explains their views. Strike up a conversation if necessary and look very interested in their ideas. They will tell you how revenge is immoral, and that by attacking the people who did this to us, we will only bring on more violence. They will probably use many arguments, ranging from political to religious to humanitarian.
  2. In the middle of their remarks, without any warning, punch them in the nose.
  3. When the person gets up off of the ground, they will be very angry and they may try to hit you, so be careful.
  4. Quickly and calmly remind the person that violence only brings about more violence and remind them of their stand on this matter. Tell them if they are really committed to a nonviolent approach to undeserved attacks, they will turn the other cheek and negotiate a solution. Tell them they must lead by example if they really believe what they are saying.
  5. Most of them will think for a moment and then agree that you are correct.
  6. As soon as they do that, hit them again. Only this time hit them harder. Square in the nose.
  7. Repeat steps 2-5 until the desired results are obtained and the idiot realizes how stupid of an argument he/she is making.
  8. There is no difference in an individual attacking an unsuspecting victim or a group of terrorists attacking a nation of people. It is unacceptable and must be dealt with. Perhaps at a high cost.

We owe our military a huge debt for what they are do for us and our children. We must support them and our leaders at times like these. We have no choice. We either strike back, VERY HARD, or we will keep getting hit in the nose.

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