To awaken from this dream,
with its dust and ashes,
with a hole in its heart,
to a simple time, is not to be.
I long for the journey back
into the light, to feel a warm,
safe haven again.
(I remember standing at the American
Military Cemetery in Oxford, England,
thanking God that we had not had
a war on our soil in over 150 years.)
The dream will not stop,
terror strikes, shocked, stunned,
seeking solace and renewal
in confusion and fear.
(I stood looking at the crosses,
wondering who the unknown were,
did they realize that their deaths
were not in vain?)
I try to wake,
but the sleep is deep,
walking yet not moving,
looking yet not seeing,
hearing but not listening.
(will the unknown be remembered?
Will they ever know what their deaths
meant to us?)
Let me wake up,
let this rage I feel so clearly leave,
let the peace that was before be there
when my eyes open.
(will they know,
that out of the the carnage,
came unity,
a oneness to stop the madness?)
The Lady's Flame reassures us and
the Torch shines thru the dust and ash,
the Lone Flag stands amid destruction
and we will fight with all we have.
I wake slowly to find the dream is true
and real, the emotions running deep as
people and nations pull together.
let the rage roar loud and long,
for we will not cower.
