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September 11, 2001
By Sonia Schreiber Weitz
Copyright © September 11, 2001
THE TOWERS TRANSFORMED
BY FIRE AND SMOKE,
THE CLOAK OUT OF DANTE’S INFERNO.
THE PENTAGON CRUSHED
LIKE A WOUNDED GIANT,
BUT THE NATION STANDS
STRONG AND DEFIANT.
THE VICTIMS AND HEROES
GROTESQUELY ENTWINED
WITH KILLERS WHO CHILL
HUMANITY’S SPINE.
THE MADNESS, THE HORROR,
THE ASHES, THE SORROW
FOREVER ENGRAVED
IN STEEL AND CONCRETE
AND ETCHED EVER DEEP
UPON OUR WEEPING SOUL.
MY DREAMS ARE A NIGHTMARE
(I DON’T DARE TO SHARE)
OF ANOTHER PLACE,
ANOTHER TIME, ANOTHER CRIME.
I TASTE THE PAIN OF INNOCENCE SLAIN
AND I FEEL REAL PANIC
HAUNTED BY THE SMELL
(WHICH I KNOW SO WELL)
OF BURNING FLESH... AND BONES...
AND HAIR... I AM THERE,
IN THAT OTHER KINGDOM OF DESPAIR.
THE TWISTED BODIES ARE THE SAME
THE FACES ARE FAMILIAR, TOO.
BUT ALSO STRANGE…
THE RANGE OF SUFFERING
BEYOND THE SCOPE
AND SO, WE GROPE OUT THERE…
“WHERE LANGUAGE FAILS AND IMAGERY DEFIES,
DENIES OUR CONSCIOUSNESS… AND DIES
UPON THE ALTAR OF INSANITY” *
*From Yom Ha’Shoah Poem by Sonia Weitz