Faye Sizemore


We remember September Eleven
fiery smoke rising to Heaven…
the murder of thousands of innocents
a touch that day of Satan’s essence
Our grief is not quiet…
It wails in the streets
For all times this will be a sign
upon the broken New York skyline
Horror unspeakable we did record
‘Vengeance is mine’… saith the Lord…
but this be the prayer that runs through the land…
‘Lord, tip the cup to our lips… and let us drink,
for we need to feel the hilt of the sword in our hand
prepared for the time when good and evil meets’
No, our grief is not quiet… it wails in the streets…