Voices from the Clouds

Poems, Songs, Letters, Meditations and Links from by Ordinary Folks on 9/11.... ONE (author unknown) 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. (Thanks Mom!) This one is on the mushy side but quite nice... A Dad's Poem (Author Unknown) Her hair was up in a pony tail, her favorite dress tied with a bow. Today was Daddy's Day at school, and she couldn't wait to go. But her mommy tried to tell her, that she probably should stay home. Why the kids might not understand, if she went to school alone. But she was not afraid; she knew just what to say. What to tell her classmates of why he wasn't there today. But still her mother worried, for her to face this day alone. And that was why once again, she tried to keep her daughter home. But the little girl went to school, eager to tell them all. About a dad she never sees a dad who never calls. There were daddies along the wall in back, for everyone to meet. Children squirming impatiently, anxious in their seats. One by one the teacher called, a student from the class To introduce their daddy, as seconds slowly passed. At last the teacher called her name, every child turned to stare. Each of them was searching, for a man who wasn't there. "Where's her daddy at?" she heard a boy call out. "She probably doesn't have one," another student dared to shout. And from somewhere near the back, she heard a daddy say, "Looks like another deadbeat dad, too busy to waste his day." The words did not offend her, as she smiled up at her Mom. And looked back at her teacher, who told her to go on. And with hands behind her back, slowly she began to speak. And out from the mouth of a child, came words incredibly unique. "My Daddy couldn't be here, because he lives so far away. But I know he wishes he could be, since this is such a special day. And though you cannot meet him, I wanted you to know. All about my daddy, and how much he loves me so. He loved to tell me stories he taught me to ride my bike. He surprised me with pink roses, and taught me to fly a kite. We used to share fudge sundaes, and ice cream in a cone. And though you cannot see him, I'm not standing here alone. "Cause my daddy's always with me, even though we are apart I know because he told me, he'll forever be in my heart. With that, her little hand reached up, and lay across her chest. Feeling her own heartbeat, beneath her favorite dress. And from somewhere in the crowd of dads, her mother stood in tears. Proudly watching her daughter, who was wise beyond her years. For she stood up for the love of a man not in her life. Doing what was best for her, doing what was right. And when she dropped her hand back down, staring straight into the crowd. She finished with a voice so soft, but its message clear and loud. "I love my daddy very much, he's my shining star. And if he could, he'd be here, but heaven's just too far You see he was a fireman and died just this past year When airplanes hit the towers and taught Americans to fear. But sometimes when I close my eyes, it's like he never went away." And then she closed her eyes, and saw him there that day. And to her mother's amazement, she witnessed with surprise. A room full of daddies and children, all starting to close their eyes. Who knows what they saw before them, who knows what they felt inside. Perhaps for merely a second, they saw him at her side. "I know you're with me Daddy," to the silence she called out. And what happened next made believers, of those once filled with doubt. Not one in that room could explain it, for each of their eyes had been closed. But there on the desk beside her, was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose. And a child was blessed, if only for a moment, by the love of her shining bright star. And given the gift of believing, that heaven is never too far. (thanks Sandy!) I wrote this poem as a tribute to one of my contributors, who lost her battle to cancer on August 17, 2003.... FOR STEPHANIE by RoZita I hope when you closed your eyes on this dimension that what you saw was as shining and bright as a newly minted star or the eyes of a lover or the first smile of a baby. I hope it grew to the size of an angel and wrapped its arms around you and sang a song of welcome composed especially for you. I hope it extinguished the flames of pain and cooled your face with a kiss of gladness and filled your arms with flowers that were never meant for the altars of sorrow. IF I KNEW Author unknown If I knew it would be the last time That I'd see you fall asleep I would tuck you in more tightly and pray the Lord, your soul to keep. If I knew it would be the last time that I see you walk out the door, I would give you a hug and kiss and call you back for one more. If I knew it would be the last time I'd hear your voice lifted up in praise, I would video tape each action and word so I could play them back day after day. If I knew it would be the last time I could spare an extra minute, to stop and say "I LOVE YOU" instead of assuming you would know I do. If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day, Well I'm sure you'll have so many more, so I can let just this one slip away. For surely there's always tomorrow to make up for an overnight, and we always get a second chance to make everything just right. There will always be another day to say "I love you", And certainly there's another chance to say our "anything I can do?" But just in case I might be wrong and today is all I get, I'd like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike, And today may be the last chance you get to hold your loved one tight. So if you're waiting for tomorrow, why not do it today? For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day. That you didn't take extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last wish. So hold your loved ones close today and whisper in their ear, Tell them how much you love them and that you'll always hold them dear. Take time to say "I'm sorry," "Please forgive me," "Thank You," or "It's OK" And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today. (thanks Tammy) I'm not familiar with this Big Band song from 1943, but a friend sent it saying it put her in mind of the rescue workers and those hoping against hope for word of their loved ones.... MY SHINING HOUR by Johnny Mercer and Harold Arlen This will be my shining hour Calm and happy and bright In my dreams your face will flower Through the darkness of the night Like the lights of home before me Or an angel watching o'er me This will be my shining hour Till I'm with you again Like the lights of home before me Or an angel watching o'er me This will be my shining hour Till you're with me again. (Thanks Deena!) And here's yet another, on a somewhat different note, from 1942...(thanks again Deena!) THE HOUSE I LIVE IN by Lewis Allan and Earl Robinson The house I live in, a plot of earth, a street; the grocer and the butcher and the people that I meet; The children in the playground, the faces that I see; all races and religions, that's America to me. The place I work in, the worker at my side the little town or city where my people live and died; The howdy and the handshake, the air of feeling free the right to speak my mind out, that's America to me. The things I see about me, the big things and the small the little corner newsstand and the towers a mile tall The wedding and the churchyard, the laughter and the tears, the dream that's been a-growing for so many, many years The town I live in, the street, the house, the room the pavement of the city or a garden all in bloom The places where we worship, the million lights I see but especially the people, that's America to me. "Today we have higher buildings and wider highways, but shorter tempers and narrower points of view" (Thanks SusanLeigh and KC!) ~*~London Blasts~*~ by RoZita ~written 7/7/05 in memory of the terrorist attack on the London station~ The world erupted in the midst of a city little worlds lay gasping all around hearts exploded one by one on the periphery of all warm doing. Each fragment bloomed into a star wished upon by lifted faces which sang riddles handed down from unending circles widening out of the flaming core of being. The enemy thirsting scratched his name on melted pavement then crouched in patient solitude listening for the crumbling of final hopes on which to feast, dreaming of fawning virgins circling as moths around a torch of eternal consummation. This is a letter to a well-known celebrity.... Greetings Antonio, to yourself and all those you love: Christmas is drawing near, and the silence of the fresh fallen snow is upon me. As I reflect over the past year and all it held, visions of many things danced in my head. There were no visions of sugar plums, nor jolly old elves with a nose like a cherry. There were no dreams of flights into space on sleds, or presents gaily wrapped setting under a tree. The visions I'm remembering are my friends and family gathered around tables heaping with wonderful foods. Long trips in the car just doing absolutely nothing but enjoying companionship and our wonderful earth. Celebrating with my family over good report cards, a promotion, and a new business venture. Enjoying being with my friends, listening to them, laughing with them, crying with them. Yes, my head is full of visions and rememberances. I'm also reflecting on the dreams I held, and still hold close to my heart. There is the dream where all peoples walk the earth with love and respect for themselves and for one another. Along with this dream, there is no hunger. Everyone has someting to eat. Everyone has some kind of work to do. There is another dream of broad, smiling faces on children everywhere. Their arms and hands are reached out, only to embrace their world. There is no fear in their eyes, but trust and confidence that their world is a wonderful place to live. Another vision/dream is more like a prayer, I suppose. People everywhere put down their weapons. They gird themselves in glory instead of armour. Their arms reach out not to strike but to praise. Their voices are lifted in song instead of loud, angry curses. Their hearts are not burdened with selfishness, but strengthened with courage and faith. It has been said by many, that my foolish dreams cannot be realized on this earth. So, I will just let them be my prayers. May the kingdom that the Christ Child came to bring to us, be the kingdom that reigns in your hearts, not only during this holy season, but for all the days of your life. @~~~)~~ Love and peace, Maryann On Monday we emailed jokes. On Tuesday we did not. On Monday we thought that we were secure. On Tuesday we learned better. On Monday we had families. On Tuesday we had several thousand orphans. On Monday we were talking about heroes as being athletes. On Tuesday we relearned who our real heroes are. On Monday we were irritated that our rebate checks had not arrived. On Tuesday we gave money away to people we had never met. On Monday there were people fighting against praying in schools. On Tuesday you would have been hard pressed to find a school where someone was not praying. On Monday people argued with their kids about picking up their room. On Tuesday the same people could not get home fast enough to hug their kids. On Monday people were upset that they had to wait 6 minutes in a fast food drive through line. On Tuesday people didn't care about waiting up to 6 hours to give blood. On Monday we waved our flags signifying our cultural diversity. On Tuesday we waved only the American flag. On Monday there were people trying to separate each other by race, sex, color and creed. On Tuesday they were holding hands. On Monday we were men or women, black or white, old or young, rich or poor. On Tuesday we were Americans. On Monday politicians argued about budget surpluses. On Tuesday, tears in their eyes and grief stricken, they sang 'God Bless America'. What a difference a day makes. (Thanks Maryann!) TRIBUTE TO THE INNOCENT DEAD by Gamin Davis Images and emotions, Tuesday, September 11, about 0900: Pristine-sunlit-blue New York morning ripped asunder with darkness and smoke... twin towers, twin airplanes, twin explosions... smoke billowing, flames rising, debris falling... people panicking, jumping, falling, crushed as buildings collapsed. Death, incomprehensible death... still-uncounted dead. World Trade Center... twin towers surely impregnable, rising to defiant heights, now rubble? The Pentagon, that fortress of military power, one side demolished by an airplane? White House, State building, others threatened? Impossible...unreal... scenes from a disaster movie. And all the people inside... on the airplanes... except for the fortunate few...dead. Hero firefighters, police, others find and bring out survivors. Any are miraculous...large numbers unlikely... thousands of body bags...bodies among the rubble... parts of bodies...all handled with such care. But so many never to be found. So many innocent dead...and why? No excuse...no religious "cause"... nothing sufficient to justify this carnage. This Holocaust. It's just evil--nothing else. And the United States will have justice. If that means war, so be it-- but let it not be indiscriminate. Let us not, in our anger, assume all Muslims or all Arabs are guilty, lest we sink to the terrorists' level. Let us focus on the guilty and their accomplices alone. The United States will persevere and heal-- and we thank God for the support of friends and strangers, especially those from other countries, who share our shock and grief-- but right now, the United States bleeds. And the United States mourns... remembering the dead, comforting the survivors, resolved not to let evil triumph. (Thanks Tammy and Gamin!) You can hear more "voices from the clouds" by downloading a free ebook called 911: The Day America Cried. Go to Wordwalker Publishing and click on "e-books" at the left. It is a collection of poems, stories, letters and essays relating to the WTC/Pentagon attack. (thanks Debi!) This picture was drawn by a 12-year-old girl from Pennsylvania... Click on it to see the full sized version National Prayer (Thanks Mom!) Can't Cry Hard Enough This slideshow takes a minute or two to load, but it's very moving....(Thanks again Debi!) Previous | Home | Next