The Dust
The field of honor that was once
A testament of steel
Has now been cleared of all debris
Except that which we feel.
In the ruins of sorrow
Families cry for those that won’t return.
Children wail and lovers weep
For those of whom they yearn.
The uniforms of blue and white --
Reminders to us all --
Are fused with red, which is the blood
Of those who heard the call.
And brave men out on foreign soil
Now wage the battle proud.
They rattle sabers gleaming bright
Their caissons ring out loud.
The sinister force from far off lands
Sent assassins from the skies
They thought that killing innocents
Would reinforce their lies.
But what beheld them following
This cowardly attack
Was a steely-eyed America
That was ready to fight back.
The dust that fell from towers tall
Still lingers to this day.
It flows throughout our beating hearts --
It shows up when we pray.
And while we fight these craven foes,
We know we’ve just begun
To honor those that passed away
The date of Nine-One-One.
©2002 Alan Smason
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