In the fiery blossom of a terrorist kiss,
the mighty towers of America’s fist
Disappeared in a thick grey mist:
A thick grey mist like a shadowy hand
that spreads out terror across the land.
To strangle with fear the enemy planned.
A serpent in the garden, he circles round:
American icons, tumbling down.
Perfect twins now a funeral mound.
Beat on the door of a cold stone heart.
Weep for friends in a candlelit park.
Lost in the pain of sorrows deep dark.
Out of the pyre, the stars and stripes rise.
All people unite when the great eagle flies,
To form a vast host, whom terror despise.
©Copyright 20 October 2001 by Rae Pater