911

(Silver Skins and Paper Flags)

I

My Heart-

It Breaks,

Each time I see that plane,

That plane like an arrow

Piercing the silver skin

Of the Palace of Moneyed Cubicles.

My Mind-

It Cracks,

Each time I see that man,

That man like an arrow,

An upside down arrow,

Falling past the Silver Temple of Money.

My Faith-

It Leaks,

Each time I hear of the soldiers,

Those Pentagon soldiers,

Who never knew that

The war was at their door.

My Soul-

It Aches,

For all of the people,

Those innocent people,

Whose lives ended and changed,

On the war-ravaged streets of New York.

And a part of me rages,

And a part of me mourns,

A part seeks bloody revenge,

A part whispers, “Do no harm”.

I sit here safe in the country,

They don’t tend to bomb farms,

And grieve for the lost and surviving,

And grieve for a world gone wrong.

II

The Thunder Cracks!

The Lightning Flashed!

As if the spirits of nature

Are venting their rage,

And the rain falls like tears

Over the ruins of American Pride.

The people rage on the street

Demanding acts of revenge.

Revenge against a nameless, faceless adversary,

As invulnerable as the thunder,

As untamed as the wind,

And as fluid as the rain.

How do you punish the wind?

How do you prosecute the dead?

How do you capture a shadow?

How to think through the rage in your head?

III

Red is the Rage,

The anger and hate,

Red is a color that is rarely opaque,

Red is the color of blood recent shed,

Red is the color that marks recent dead.

And what will you do,

My fine rageful one?

How will you vent the Red

That colors your soul?

Will you strike out blindly

to spread your pain?

Or will you wait while the late summer rain

Washes the red out to the bay?

It’s only pink pain at the end of the day.

Do not rage out blindly and

Attack out of grief,

Respond using logic and reason.

Patience will dilute the red,

This war can wait a season.

And my heart,

It breaks,

Everytime I see that plane,

Pierce the silver skin

Of the temple of money.

PASSAGE TWO

September 21, 2001

I

My Heart-

It Bursts,

Every time I see the flag,

That Great American Flag,

That has appeared in every home,

Hung in every window.

My Mind-

It Bends,

As I realize the magnitude

Of every flag sold out in the aisles

Of K-Mart, Q-Mart, Walmart

And the stores of downtown.

My Faith-

It Sings,

When I see the paper flags,

The cutout newspaper flags,

That takes the place of the cloth

That has sold out in the mall.

(listen my grandchild,

we flew paper flags

until the new ones were made.

We had none before 911 –

Patriotism was passé)

II

The Masters of War

And the Public General

Scream out for Blood-

OPERATION INFINATE JUSTICE

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE

(is anyone else scared now,

of that word,

that foreign word,

that means “a holy war”?)

The President said

In his Address,

“YOU ARE EITHER WITH US

OR AGAINST US”

And planes have become frightening things

(at least until we realize,

“been there, done that,

got the t-shirt”,

as smallpox

or anthrax

fill the air)

III

Did you hear that the missing

Is over six thousand

And most will never be found?

(cremation free of charge-

courtesy of terrorists-r-us)

“Bomb them back to the stone age!”

I think the communists already did.

“Deport all the rest of the Muslim freaks!”

Should we pull them from the mosque,

From their sorrow and grieving?

They are Americans too.

(they came to the USA

looking for freedom and peace,

just like everyone else did)

All the fire trucks

In the entire nation,

Dress in Black Mourning Ribbons.

And all the clocks

In all our minds,

Seem stuck at 8:47

(the moment the world changed as we knew it)

All of the churches are filled to the brim

Jerry Falwell says that it’s our own sin,

That led God to desert us in our hour of need

(does that mean God is on their side?)

All the fornicators

And the sinners

(not to mention the gays)

Are to blame for this violence

Are to blame for this pain

ALLAH AGREES

The soldiers are saying goodbye

To all of their family and friends

(the censors are standing by with their pens-

SECRECY DO OR DIE)

And the terrorists made out in the market

Selling out before they caused the crash.

And our nation will slowly crumble,

Since everyone lost all their cash.

IV

But still our paper flags are flying

Held up with cellophane tape

And burn candles in corner vigils

(patriotism is never realized too late)

We’re facing a war of attrition

Only those left living will win

We’ll kill everyone who disagrees,

“Righteous Murder” isn’t a sin.

(mr. president, don’t kill any children,

or old folks or parents or pets.

SORRY, ALL MUST BE MURDERED

AT LEAST UNTIL OUR DEMANDS ARE MET)

Excuse me, Mr. bin Laden,

Why do you hate all of us so?

What have we done to offend you?

A bunch of us would like to know.

V

I guess we all feel patriotic

Cause it helps to calm the fear.

Yet rage underneath Old Glory

Rage red as the stripes of Old Glory,

Builds in the hearts of all wo/men.

WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE SO ANGRY?

I scream into the eye of the storm.

Genocide belongs to the ghosts of the past.

Genocide is the goal of this war.

And yet,

Still,

When it gets right down to it—

My Heart-

It Bursts,

Everytime I see that flag,

That silly, little paper flag,

That I have hung in my windows.