Death in the September 11th Epic Poem

They knew no more the constant war
            That ev’ry human fights,  
Or all the dross that made them toss
            On guilty, sleepless, nights.
They went to bed to face the dead
            With eyes and feelings blind,
But when they woke the shadows broke            
            And left their fears behind.
 
They found themselves in groups of twelves[7]   
            With names and ranks prepared.
With jobs and tasks; despite their pasts,
            Forgiven, loved, and spared.
With pain removed and minds improved
            They basked in what they felt:
The frosts of Earth that froze their worth
            At last began to melt.
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