a poem by Mary Kay Gunning Bonfante, copyright 2002



Dedication: See Notes.
 

DAY FOUR

 

CHAPTER I

Tears of concrete sting our eyes,

As sirens wail our lullaby.

Such cruel abuse of jets that fly!

Snatching even our last goodbyes.



Tortured metal, broken glass

Frame the present, mock the past.

Dim the future, cut the hands

That will not yield to death's demands.



Arise. O life and liberty!

From ashes, Lord, we make our plea.

Restore our peace, and set us free

From that which stole tranquility.



Brothers and sisters trapped in a tomb,

Yes even the baby in the womb.

As hours crawl and minutes tick by,

Please let us find some who did not die.



The horror knocks, we bolt the door,

And try to hold onto what was before.

Yet a twist of events has scorched the lives

Of brothers and sisters, husbands and wives.



A brief span of time, and a moment's distraction,

Enemies plotting unthinkable action.

The dawning of horror arriving to chill us:

They hate us, despise us, and just want to kill us.



The childless parent, the orphaned baby.

Missing persons -- if only -- maybe,

He or she could be found alive,

There still is hope -- could some survive?



Sir or Ma'am, please don't yet despair.

Under the ground there are pockets of air.

God, give me a pocket, give me the sky!

Heavenly Father, please don't let them die!



Over and over on TV screens,

Colliding, flaming, collapsing scenes.*1

We watch -- disbelieving -- how could this occur?

And we know things will never be as they were.


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*1 see video



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