Sincerely, Scotty

9-11

Fifteen years ago today, an event occurred that will be long remembered – the terrorists attack on the World Trade Center. I rarely quote poems in this column, but I feel this is worth the time to read. The author is unknown, but the message is quite clear. Please take a moment to read it and perhaps spend a moment in silent prayer:

Two thousand one, nine eleven

Five thousand plus arrive in heaven

As they pass through the gate

Thousands more appear in wait

A bearded man with stovepipe hat

Steps forward saying,

“Let’s sit, let’s chat”

They settle down in seats of clouds

A man named Martin shouts out proud

“I have a dream!” and once he did

The Newcomer said, “Your dream still lives.”

Groups of soldiers in blue and gray

Others in khaki and green, then say

“We’re from Bull Run, Yorktown, the Maine”

The Newcomer said, “You died not In vain.”

From a man on sticks one could hear

“The only thing we have to fear ”

The Newcomer said, “We know the rest,

Trust us sir, we’ve passed the test.”

“Courage doesn’t hide in caves

You can’t bury freedom, in a grave,”

The newcomer had heard this voice before

A distinct Yankee twang from Hyannisport shores

A silence fell within the misy

Somehow the Newcomer knew that this

Meant time had come for her to say

What was in the hearts of the five thousand plus that day

“Back on Earth, we wrote reports,

Watched our children play in sports

Worked our gardens, sang our songs

Went to church and clipped cupons

We smiled, we laughed, we cried, we fought

Unlike you, great we’re not

The tall man in the stovetop hat

Stood and said, “Don’t talk like that!

Look at your country, look and see

You died for freedom, just like me.”

Then, before them all appeared a scene

Of rubbled streets and twisted beams

Death, destruction, smoke, and dust

And people working just ‘cause they must

Hauling ash, lifting stones,

Knee deep in hell

But not alone

“Look! Blackman, Whiteman, Brownman, Yellowman

Side by side helping their fellow man!”

So said Martin, as he watched the scene

“Even from nightmares, can be born a dream.”

Down below three firemen raised

The colors high into ashen haze

The soldiers above had seen it before

On Iwo Jima back in ‘44

The man on sticks studied everything closely

Then shared his perceptions on what he saw mostly

“I see pain, I see tears,

I see sorrow – but I don’t see fear.”

“You left behind husbands and wives

Daughters and sons and so many lives

Are suffering now because of this wrong

But look very closely. You are not really gone.

All of those people, even those who’ve never met you

All of their lives, they’ll never forget you

Don’t you see what has happened?

Don’t you see what you’ve done?

You’ve brought them together, together as one.

With that the man in the stovepipe hat said

“Take my hand,” and from there he led

Five thousand plus heroes, Newcomers to heaven

On this day, two thousand one, nine eleven.

Sincerely,

Scotty