The echoing cries of victims wail
The torment and the sorrow
The World comes to a screeching halt
Armageddon on the morrow.
The fertile fields of blood flow freely
The aching heart will bleed
The conscience of the waking man
Sows the unthinkable deed.
The waist won’t wait the middle ground
When the extreme is what they pluck
The hour glass runs astutely
The sands of time run out of luck.
So justice runs afoul of fear
And lends a gentle hand
To the voice of promise in the dark
And what it now commands.
That with this freedom, in our names
The end will be at bay
For we, the Brave, who understand
Will fight and win the day.
September 14, 2001.
Author notes
My first response to 9-11.
A contest entry
- Important Issues by pinksnowboots.
570 points, ended February 19, 67 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I love your writing.
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Awesome write, if our country would call the soldiers to a purpose that would be justily and not for greedy actions and outcomes.
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