AMERICAS DAY OF TRAGEDY

YOU ANSWERED YOUR LAST CALL 

(Dedicated to the brave NYC firefighters who gave their lives in the line of duty September 11, 2001 at the World Trade disaster)

I remember the alarm on that fateful day, as we responded in haste, to be carried away. With sirens screaming our advancing pace, we answered the call by taking our place. We have answered this call many times before, you see it's our job, we expect no less, no more. We know the danger that comes with the quest, but we answered that call, by doing our best.

We are armed with the weapons of life saving gear, the voices of so many calling us near. Then we arrive at this god-awful sight, the towers ablaze, no time for fear, just fight. This was an act of evil, so may souls could be lost, we must strive to save as many, at whatever the cost. Into the lobby, and then down the hall, I rush up the steps, to answer the call.

My heart is now pounding, the sweat pours down my face, but I keep moving at a life saving pace. Shouting out orders as I continue my quest, "GET DOWN, KEEP MOVING!" I shout, "PLEASE GOD! â€*HELP ME!"â€*. I'm doing my best.

Then all at once I hear a thunderous roar from above, my life flashes before me images of those whom I love. Then out of nowhere I am led by the hand, by this unknown person, who is this man? He carried me out of this inferno from hell, as he lifted my soul, just when everything fell.

Now I am at peace, just comfort - no pain, who is this man who offered his hand when my tears fell like rain? I now stand before this bright heavenly light, to raise my head and ask, who is this man who came to my plight?

Then, I hear a voice from above as my eyes roam, "My son, do not fear for he has taken you home." "He is just like you, you see he answered My call. He was just doing his job, giving his all." "His boots and his helmet were supplied from above, and his power and strength came from those that you love." "You see, even up here when the alarm bell rings, they answer your call these firefighters with wings." "He carried you away from that horrible place, when you cried out to Me, for my love and my grace." "Your mission is over my son, you answered your last call, you saved so many lives, walk tall and be proud." "My son, take my hand and walk into the light, and dwell with Me forever in God's heavenly might."

Author, Robert L. Houle,

 BRRRHoule@aol.com 

Copyright September 18, 2001

Freedom Isn't Free

 (Dedicated in memory of U.S. Navy Cmdr. Dan Shanower, Naperville, IL who paid the price for freedom, September 11, 2001 while on duty at the Pentagon)

May my voice ring out to those near and far Undaunted by blood and tears When freedom called I paid the price My life eternal throughout the years

We do not know what the future holds Or who next may pay the price Of this great land for which we stand In the name of freedom did I sacrifice

I fought for freedom for those I loved And for Old Glory flying high I proudly served when duty called This thing call freedom for which I died

So pity me not I knew the price My tears and pain I gladly gave Just gather together and pledge your faith With God's tears upon my grave

So remember me well with loving heart and soul Let freedom ring from sea to shining sea The cost was high I paid the price Noâ€* freedom isn't free

Author, Robert L. Houle

BRRRHoule@aol.com

@Copyright September 18, 2001. All rights reserved

Dedicated to Christine Hanson: My name is Christine Hanson.

I am only two years old. I am going for a ride, or that what I am told.

I am sitting here quietly, next to my mom and dad. I am having a fun time. Everyone seems glad.

Why is he yelling Daddy? Please tell me what's wrong! Please don't cry Mommy, this ride won't be that long!

Why are we getting up and moving to the back? Why is everyone crying? Why is she being attacked?

What did I do wrong? Why are they yelling at us? Why is everyone screaming? What is all the fuss?

I thought you said that this plane ride would be fun. Is this a game Mommy? Am I it, am I the one?

I think I will hide behind you, so that I don't get caught. Daddy this isn't fun anymore! This isn't what I thought.

Why do I see buildings right out the next window? Shouldn't we stop now? Shouldn't we go slow?

What was that loud boom? Why do I see fire? What just happened Daddy? We should have been higher!

We have hit a building, the World Trade Center I think. I am slowly dying now. I can't open my eyes to blink.

Where are you Mommy? Why can't I hear your voice? Why did they drive us here? This wasn't our choice.

My name is Christine Hanson. I am only two years old. We were going for a plane ride. That's what we were told.

I'll never go to prom. I won't reach the age of three. Why did this happen to these people? Why did this happen to me?

Please pass this on in memory of Christine Hanson who was killed on flight 175 at 9:03 am and for the thousands more who died on 9-11-01, the day America was under attack. (I recieved this in an email with the above request to pass this along. I do not know who the author is if you do please let me know so I can give proper credit.) 

 

The author of the below 3 poems: ©Sharon Langan 9/11/01 

America's Soul

Cowards rejoiced in our anguish,
Savoring each heart wrenching scream.
Yet they failed in every effort
to destroy The American Dream.
They couldn't begin to comprehend
what Americans inherently know
How just as the mythological Phoenix...
from the ashes gloriously arose …
Now shall we all band together
uniting all races, each creed
And together rise up even stronger
from this despicable deed.
Mere structures are unimportant,
easy enough to rebuild,
But well over six thousand
innocent lives have been stilled.
Like siblings, Americans often
can be found to disagree.
Yet woe to the unwary intruder
who brings harm to our family!
The enemy failed to accomplish
its underlying goal,
They could not .. for all of their vileness
destroy America’s soul.


Mommy Cries

Sitting alone on a doorstep,
Calling out to those passing by.
Proudly holding a smudged piece of paper,
A drawing of planes in the sky.


Will you help me look for my Daddy?
The child asked with innocent eyes.
He didn't come home for supper
Now Mommy just sits there and cries.


He said he would bring me a present,
So I made him a present too
I drew him a wonderful picture,
I think he will like it ... don't you?


Do you know the way to Heaven?
God had work for him to do,
But he's been gone for a long time...
How come you are crying too?


Won't you please help me find my Daddy?
The child asked again with a sigh,
It's starting to get kind of late out
And Mommy just sits there and cries.


Heroes

Just ordinary people
Living ordinary lives,
Mothers ... Fathers … Children
Friends ... Husbands … Wives.


Doing what they had to do,
As they did every day.
Some set off to go to work
While others went to play.


On September the eleventh
In the year two thousand one,
They had no way of knowing
Their last day had just begun.


People from all walks of life
Came together on that day,
And what they did will oft be told
In a grateful, somber way.


In the air, and on the ground
Metamorphosis took place.
Ordinary people became Heroes,
They met hatred face to face.


Despite the terror and the grief
They would not let evil win.
They fought with all their inner strength
Against this deadly sin.


They made the greatest sacrifice
Humans can ever make.
Bravely giving up their lives
For other people’s sake.


Never will they be forgotten,
Each one paid the price,
To save us from the terrorists
They gave up their own life.


As they look down from Heaven,
Show them they did not die in vain.
Band together against all hatred,
Let Love and Peace forever reign.


In Memory of our Heroes who worked so valiantly to save lives in the air and on the ground. We will never forget you . Thank you.

©Sharon Langan 9/22/01



The author of the above 3 poems: ©Sharon Langan 9/11/01

A Nation that Stands Together Forever As one

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