The towers fell
The gauntlet dropped
The desert hell
Full of cold steel props
It beings now
What is needed
This is how
Introspection is seeded
The broken souls
The bloody fist
The dark foxholes
The casualty list
What of the desert
Its blood soaked grains
What of the fires
Of our shames and pains
What do we recall
Of that day?
What did we desire
Or hide away?
Grief not faced
Is a wound left open
For what’s been razed
And for words unspoken
My heart is bled
Of its hatred
In my head
Glimpsing the sacred
The truth clear
The war never won
The ending near
The heat of the sun
In the towers
As they died
And looked out
Into the sky
They thought not of
Justice
Or noble deeds
Democracy
Or government acts
They were scared
Yet not alone
They thought of you
Your face, your tears
Your love, your loss
Reach out now
It is not too late
To touch their hand
Before they go
The pulsing heart
The slowing beat
We must part
The end is complete
Gene G. McLaughlin 2006