September 11th EPic Poem chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN    (The Innocent Dead)
The autumn sun became undone           
            As all the air grew thick.
And ev’ry chest became compressed
            From breathing powdered brick.
The people ran without command:
            They had no time to think.
Their bundled nerves had swift reserves
            That pulled them from the brink.
           
But many souls in wretched throes
            Had nowhere they could flee.
Their human veins were only stains
            Beneath the thick debris.
Each smoking street seemed incomplete
            In minds of grieving kin,
Where empty space usurped the place                  
            Survivors should have been.
              
The cluttered roads were filled with loads
            Of rubbish piled high.
The fire-trucks were badly stuck
            In gravel thigh to thigh.
The air was thinned by stale wind
            Created by the fall.
Survivors saw the vapor thaw
            That once engulfed them all.
 
The growing sight seemed stark as night
            In contrast to before.
The smoking stacks brought mem’ries back
            Of bombings from a war.
The twisted shell produced a spell,
            Protruding bent and maimed;
But by it’s side with waning pride
            A tower still remained . 
 
It stood so strong, yet not for long:
            We knew its time was brief.
We witnessed lots of cam’ra shots
            Absorbed in rage and grief.
The city’s pet and silhouette
            Would shortly fall away.
It seemed so strange these things could change
            In under half a day.
 
We cursed and swore and promised war,
            For war had been declared.
They sent their men to kill our friends
            And no one had been spared.
The things they did to little kids
            Who happened in their path,
Forced God above to show his love
            By showing them His wrath.
 
But through their deeds they sowed some seeds 
            Upon that fertile land,
That had no part in what their hearts
            So wickedly had planned.
For God with care had long prepared
            To ease the souls who roamed.
And on that day he found a way
            To bring some children home.
 
He changed defeat to joy complete
            By letting many die.
And watched them rise with purer eyes
            Beyond the brightest sky.
He called them fast to see at last
            The better land he made,
And as they flew desires grew
            To watch their planet fade.
 
 
Beneath the heap these martyred sheep
            Had left their flesh and bone.
Instead of pain they now could claim
            A place to call their own.
And though their fates would cause their mates
            To live their lives forlorn,
The ones deceased were now released
            From hate and hurt and scorn
 
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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