COLIN F. JONES
SEPTEMBER 11th, 2002
Two specters; two invisible towers,
Two great gray translucent shadows,
Like Gods great arms filled with flowers,
Their souls, their hearts with fragrance gladdens
There forms a halo round New York City,
A binding circle made strong by love and hope,
That enduring courage lives in the eyes of pity,
Despite their mourning, they have learned to cope.
The memories now flood back and families weep,
Their thoughts go back but time it passes on,
For none can raise the dead from their sleep,
For like the sacred towers they are gone.
So they recall them in their thoughts and prayers,
And count them all here present every one.
Hear our cries Lord, hear our weeping,
Keep us safe in the shadows creeping,
Warm our sad hearts restore our blossoms,
Let loose their souls from their dark coffins,
Give them wings Lord let them fly,
Let them not whither when they die,
Make them blue and white and crimson,
Spanning time for loves great reason,
For they who built such wondrous towers,
Stand in the sunlight proud and brave
While in the shadows, evil cowers,
Denied a tranquil heavenly grave,
And we who sorrow find new purpose,
For life is love, and that they gave.
©Copyright 11 September 2002 by Colin F. Jones
9/11
Listen to the silence,
Now the smoke is gone,
Listen to the spirits,
Of heroes every one.
Feel their gentle fingers,
Caress and touch your face
That their memory ever lingers
When you visit this foul place.
Watch them rebuild the towers,
Brick by burning brick,
Like seeds producing flowers,
Where the nettles grow so thick...
But listen to the silence
While you choose which flower to pick.
©Copyright September 10, 2006 by Colin F. Jones
A TRIBUTE
~1 ~
I can't, so far remote, know of the pain
That memory delivers to the grieving heart;
Of turmoil and distress both cruel the same,
That will over a lifetime fade but not depart.
I can but know what my sad eyes do view,
Upon the screen that shows the tragic scene,
Absent yet involved for my mind being true,
Was there in that same place where I've not been.
'Tis true the devils struck without remorse,
Giving up their lives for reasons based on hate,
For what other reason could man seek this course,
Mind patterned to a fundamental fate ...
And where they struck innocent folk lay dead,
And still the cry of pain lives in my head.
~ 2 ~
This was not war this foul religious deed,
Performed my men with minds processed to hate,
This was a crime against our basic seed,
Against the moral values of a peaceful state.
It killed and maimed and shattered hearts and souls,
It turned to rubble two great landmark towers,
Yet as the spirits rose from those red coals,
There formed a stronger faith that bloomed like flowers,
Across the vastness of the united states,
In every heart and soul and limb and brain,
In every man and woman who with love relates,
That they stood tall and strong despite the pain.
God bless America long shall she be free,
To serve the world for as long as a world may be.