Del “Abe” Jones


I wrote about the heartland
When the Murrah Building fell
And I thought at that time
We’d had a taste of “hell”.

But to see “The Towers”
Over NYC
Fall into the ground,
Took the heart out of me.

Knowing all those souls
With nowhere to run –
Like looking down the barrel
Of a cocked, loaded gun.

Watching people jump
To a certain, horrid death
Made me wonder what I’d say
With my last, final breath.

Or looking out the window
To watch that “hell” doomed plane,
As it crashed into me
Through that shattered window pane.

The terror in my mind
And my helpless reeling
As my body blew away
Into that deathly feeling.

Knowing all those loved ones
That I would never see
Would bow their heads in sorrow
And say, a prayer for me.

But, prayers don’t seem to do
All that, we think they should
And most the time we wonder
If prayers do any good.

Does “He” really care?
Has “He” ever heard?
Does, “He” really listen
To, our “private word”?

And if, “He” does hear them
Why does “He” forsake “them”
When we try to do it right
Even, followed by “Amen”.

Can “He” be so cruel
That, “He” will make us pay
For, that “bite of the apple”
That, sent us all this way.

I guess, sometimes the “Devil”
Might have the upper hand
And give us pain and heartbreak
So, we will understand.

We have to take the good things
That delve into our heart
As well, as the bad
That break our heart, apart.