Del “Abe” Jones


On September eleventh
We all know, New York City
Was shrouded in a cloud
Of, the worst atrocity.

They waited in their scrubs
In the emergency room
Waiting for survivors
To be brought out of the gloom.

They waited on the sidewalks
Stretchers/wheelchairs at hand
Prepared for a disaster
They had, rehearsed and planned.

But, the people never came
As they waited through the night
Then they began to realize
That, something wasn’t right.

There should have been hundreds
Coming to them, needing care
And the hope started to fade away
As, they impatiently, waited there.

There were a few, brought in
And a few, came on their own
On this most horrific day
New York City’s ever known.

They waited for the people
As thousands called, with a name
Searching for their loved ones
And friends, who never came.

The adrenaline was flowing
As they stood their sad vigil
Wondering when, the rush would start
But, believing that, “It will!”

The day and night came and went
As their hope, began to wane
And their pent-up energy
Turned to helplessness and pain.

Doctors, nurses, technicians
And so many volunteers
Thought of those who never came
And began to shed their tears.

Some still, with a shred of hope
That, in the days to come
Those survivors might be found
At the least, maybe some.

But, the people never came
That, they were waiting for
Because, they waited up above
To get through Heaven’s door.