The Towers Fell

And I could not but weep.

Where once our pride

Soared skyward.

A hole is in my heart

That matches by

Its anguish

The hole that scars the city,

With its harrowing remains.

The images record

A landscape of destruction

Of faces in despair,

Of heroes side by side

As they search for hope and heartbeat.

I cannot ease the pain

To myself and others elsewhere.

I cannot quell the grief

To all whose hearts are heavy

With the swiftness of the loss.

I fly my flag with pride

And grim determination

That my city and my country

Will not be fallen victims

To the enemies who strike.

Who knows what next will happen

As our tears are spent and drying,

As we seek the will to vanquish

The attack upon our freedom.

Our bonds we’ll staunchly keep.

The towers fell

And I cannot but weep

In the aftermath of carnage,

As the ash begins to settle

In the shadow of the light.

To return to The 1960 Trumpet, click the Back Button on your browser.