Nancy L. Meek

WHEN SEPTEMBER MORNING COMES

Over time, our tears will slow,
Although it doesn’t seem so now
September morns will come and go
Distilling the sorrow somehow

And each year we will remember
The day our skies rained with terror
Brought to mind every September
Effecting us then, now and forever

Again we will open up our hearts
Allowing the pain to flow in and out
From deep down where the healing starts
Still searching for answers, without doubt

We’ll never understand the reasons why
Death, to some, doesn’t mean a thing
We just do our best to hold our heads high
While to a bigger picture, we try to cling

We stand reverently, offering flowers
As if they can fully convey our sense of loss
For those caught in those falling towers
Whether spouse, friend or company boss

All around us, we watch others mourn
Tissue in hand, wiping away the tears
Looking for something good to be born
From all of this, to help us through the years

We’ll remember the heroes among the dead
In New York, the Pentagon and in those planes
And those who dug through debris until they bled
Deep into the winter, spring and summer rains

When duty called, without question or pause
The rescue crew ran in, as others ran out
Obeying one of God’s most sacred laws.
To the very hilt, the Golden Rule played out

There were so many who gave until it hurt
Only resting so they could give some more
To help rescue a brother, a nation, from the dirt
To surmount the evil pouncing upon our shore

Then there were those who stood in line
To give food, aid and blood to those in need
Doing whatever they could… surely a sign
Something good would arise from the deed

When September the Eleventh rolls around
This time again next year, and the one after that
We’ll look once more to that consecrated ground
United to rise above each heinous inhumane act

Love for our brothers will make us stronger
This horrible tragedy helping us to see
We cannot close our eyes to evil any longer
Stand quietly by and watch the killing spree

We’ve accepted a great challenge on this earth
Waging a relentless battle against the foe
Intercepting their plans for all we’re worth
So we all may feel safe wherever we go

We must not let our blessed heroes die in vain
Who took up their cross to save their fellow man
From barbarians who know only death and pain
Whose beliefs are twisted by Satan’s hand

The One we trust can be found on the bill
Declaring to the world our guide of choice
His commandment to love can be heard still
When we hear “Let’s Roll!”, we hear His voice

For surely no greater love has any man
Than to lay down his life for a friend
Love for the weaker ones made them stand
To fight those terrorists till the bitter end

For that is our nature, our nation as a whole
It’s what our country is and ever will be made of
Ever aspiring, reaching, for that glorious goal
Captured afterward in a snap-shot year of love

For “Love” in this picture is clearly visible
One nation… under God. Indivisible
With Liberty and Justice for all!
United, we stand. Divided we fall!

E Pluribus Unum… Out of Many, One
One nation joined in Quest of Right
A Portal for those who seek the Sun
A Torch to all in the darkest night

With steadfast courage, we won’t falter,
We’ll prevail. We’ll see the victory won
We’ll not bow down to the devil’s altar.
A cloud of dust trying to hide the Son!

We won’t dwell on the negative when terrors rain
We’ll embrace the positive, for there’s the gain
So when September Morning comes, look above.
For there is the source of the force called “Love”!

©Copyright August 14, 2002 by Nancy L. Meek

TWIN TOWERS, SOARING HIGH

The apple of our nation’s eye,
peeled t’ward a brighter dream
gleaming, where eagles, free, surely fly
with seeming ease in heaven’s sky.

Who could know the day would come
we would see them crumble and fall
the terror of the evil, the total sum,
evoking disbelief from one and all?

Who could have seen the signs
on that serene September dawn
a nation would change with the times,
the war delivered to her own front lawn?

As Lady Liberty gazed from the harbor,
shrouded by smoke and billowing flames,
the heart of a nation, with intense ardor,
succumbed to the heat of human games.

Just for an instant, the world stood still
with us, grieving, praying we would survive.
Who could’ve believed our streets would fill
with so many innocent no longer alive?

Who could have known two years hence
we’d send sons and daughters over the sea
in a desperate attempt to quell the sense
our future’s not as bright as it used to be?

Out of dire fear of what others might do,
pre-emptive war became the plan of the day
despite the fact it might tear us in two…
like the towers…each with a different view.

Twin Towers, soaring high…

A lustrous vision in our nation’s eye…
steeled t’ward a brighter dream
gleaming, when suddenly, from the sky
the innocent leaped…and we began to cry.

Who could have known the day would come
nothing would seem to make any sense…
the horrific events leaving everyone numb
only to declare war in our own defense!

What legacy are we destined to leave
in the name of those who died that day
trapped beneath the beams and debris,
if it means mores lives will be taken away?

Twin Towers, crashing down…

“Pruned or disciplined?” We frown…
each steered t’ward a growing pride,
rising, where eagles, aloft, surely drown
with seeming ease, a world upside-down.

Who knows the day must surely come
we all will stand before God’s throne
called to account for what each has done,
with nowhere to hide, naked and alone!

Who knows war only begets more war…
an endless cycle of death and despair;
Is this the solution…what we abhor?
If there’s to be no peace on earth, then where?

Twin towers, soaring high…

Embedded in our hearts, we will fight and die,
eyes peeled still t’ward a brighter dream
gleaming, where spirits, free, surely fly
with seeming ease in heaven’s sky.

©Copyright September 2003 by Nancy L. Meek

WHERE WAS I SEPTEMBER 11?

Where was I, you ask…
the morning the world cried?

Well, I was just living my dream
scanning charges for narcotics
dispensed to our patients
just wishing my day was over

that is,
until I heard the newsflash
blaring from a patient’s room
as nurses, hands-over-mouths,
gasped at our towers falling

my mind flew
to the infirmed soul on the bed
humming some childhood tune
an opiatic stupor saving him
from knowing a nation’s pain

somber and sober
what ignorant bliss, I mused
as I reached the final page
praying God would have mercy
on those burning souls falling…

wishing their day wasn’t over

©Copyright February 17, 2003 by Nancy L. Meek

LAST CHANCE TO TELL YOU

There’s something we forgot to say
before that day the towers fell
before you perished and went away
and our lives became a living hell.

There’s something we failed to tell you
before the world stood still and cried
before our Pentagon was torn in two
and flames erupted with you inside.

If only we had told you way back then
things we wished to say, but still did not
but we didn’t know that way back when
would be the last chance we ever got.

Life is fragile and your death brings pain
and things we failed to say evoke regret
until that day when we see you again
and sorrows on earth we will all forget.

©Copyright September 3, 2004 by Nancy L. Meek

RUSH HOUR IN MANHATTAN, 2006

Some will turn their heads… look the other way
as they rush by Ground Zero, where bones yet lay,
as cab drivers, cursing, lay down on their horns,
middle fingers hurrying the silk suits along…

… Just another day in the heart of the city,
too busy to remember… Oh, what a pity!

No time, it seems, to pull over for the dead,
with still too much living approaching ahead
like on-coming headlights… distracting from that hour
their hearts fell victim to the terrorist’s power.

©Copyright January 16, 2006 by Nancy L. Meek

I BELIEVED

I saw our son come into being
and I believed
in the precious miracle I was seeing

I watched him grow into a man
and I believed
in a hopeful future, and a better plan

I wept Sept 11 when I heard the news
and I believed
in our leaders and the rescue crews

I bled inside as he fell to his death
and I believed
in praying hard, and held my breath

I cried when I spied his name on the list
and I believed
in the power of hate, and clenched my fist

I clung to God’s words written in red
and I believed
in His vengeance, and bowed my head

STILL WAITING

Her DNA was in the air,
my friend from Tower One,
dispersed throughout the city
into every rasping lung
sucking in the flying dust
and the friend I’d made for life
gone like the freakin’ wind,
my love, my heart, my wife,
while I was home alone
screaming at the news
then crying on the phone,
tormented by those views
paraded before my eyes
day in, day out, for weeks
then sifting through the lies
every freakin’ time he speaks,
on high in Air Force One
or somewhere on the ground
who promised everyone
bin laden would be found,
the mastermind behind
the murder of my wife,
gone like the freakin’ wind,
my all, my world, my life!

RISE UP FROM THE ASHES

Awarded: December 1, 2006 in conjunction with the poem, “In the Shade” ©Copyright September 8, 2006 by Nancy L. MeekDeny our vulnerability to death.
Tune out the terrorists’ attacks.
Don’t think about that bloody day
planes were driven into our backs.

Block out those events surreal.
Change the channel or station
to ones less prone to convey
the evil inflicted upon our nation.

Dwell not upon the human dramas
replayed in shock and awe reality,
the unfiltered, uncensored horrors
assaulting our nation’s mentality.

Suppress the grief in September
when we joined hands in tears,
when our united will to recover
proved stronger than our fears.

Let’s rise up from the ashes,
live as if we will never die,
and one day we will get there
to join the others by and by.

IN THE SHADE

Awarded: December 1, 2006 in conjunction with “Rise Up From the Ashes” ©Copyright September 8, 2006 by Nancy L. MeekI’ve wandered in this empty hole
for forty days approaching years,
fresh, smoldering, shattered bones
evoking more hot unbidden tears.

Each time I gaze into the pit
where once our towers stood,
shading folk who strolled below,
I may linger longer than I should.

Growing angry, my fingers splayed,
I reach for throats I cannot squeeze,
search still for answers in the dust,
face upturned to catch the breeze.

Looking… listening… for some sign,
I’d spy a leg, a hand, dry blood, a head
as skies above, no longer silent, roared,
as soaring Air Force One drowned out the dead.

Their collective graves, I fear, will bear no stone
to recall where they are scattered now…
in the cool shade of a big steel cross
soothing to these ashes on my brow.

FINAL OPTION

As you drop your dying cell phone
(your anchor to the world outside)
in an effort to help your colleague,
which tactic haven’t you tried?

When the smoke comes arid black,
and invades your lungs and eyes,
what prayers will make a difference
as the man beside you dies?

Clinging to hope you’ll return
to the world you knew before,
you’re amazed you’re still alive,
marooned on an upper floor.

As flames eat through the door
that formerly held them at bay,
how do you endure the unbearable,
as you scream and pull away?

Who knows what one must do
in the struggle for blessed air,
when a closed window is shattered
and the opening is there…

Author’s Note: This poem refers to the people who jumped from the windows of the New York City World Trade Towers on September 11, 2001