In my America
Babies are supposed to laugh and play with careless ease in their mothers arms
Time is measured by work or lunch or soccer games and dance recitals
News no matter how big or breaking never stops my America
Until that day
That day babies hushed on mothers hips
And time gave up it's right of way
to smoke and glass and endless tears
As lives were stolen from our countries hands
And all of us
suburban, city, rural, coastal folk
gazed speechless into an unfolding mass of horror
Too terrified to say aloud what we saw to our children
How do you say to a wide eyed child
“America stopped today...”
And where do you get the strength to admit to your own self
how very vulnerable you feel when tucking little ones in
and turning off the lights
As you wonder to yourself
What else can happen while we sleep tonight?
But God who is All present even in the midst of mans demise
Made Himself known to me in silence
As I reluctantly closed my eyes...
“Ever Present” by Bonita Jones Knott © 9/11/2011
No comments:
Post a Comment