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How should we remember
these days, with tears,
with sorrow, with anger,
with vengeance?
How could we tell when
days end that a voice
might be calling under
those pile of ruins?
And the sound of a cry
screaming before death -
death that plays
all these games with
the living.
In the sadness of Death
that brings the race
together, the human race:
the Munich Olympic, the ethnic
cleansing in Bosnia,
the terror in Oaklahoma,
the earthquake in Kobe, the volcano
eruption in Sierra Leon and now,
now the flight to the World
Trade Center and the Pentagon.
How innocence was lost in
the midst of the morning with
the screeching sound of a missile
soaring through the silent sky.
How should we remember
these days in the sadness of truth;
that the living mourn
those losses, to shed tears
with their sadness, their pain.
And here we are
remember, remembering
that we, with our differences
are humans. We,
with our complex mind,
are humans. We, with our anger,
our vengeance, our hate, our fighting,
are humans. We that suffers in
the reality of truth,
the reality of death,
the reality of living; that
pain is living, suffering
is the sadness of the heart
who aches for joy.
How should we remember
these days of death, of sadness
that joy is with eternity in
the distance, so far away from
the grasp of our hands, so far
away from the memories of our thoughts?
How should we listen for
that cry among those ruins, gasp
for that breath of air,
for death that could come in
an instant or in a slow suffering?
Now that the morning's
innocence has been tainted
with eerie sound of death, how should we
remind ourselves, with our differences,
our hate, our culture, our living
that we are humans.
As one, we are humans. As many
we are humans. As individuals,
we are humans. As a unity,
we are humans. We are humans...
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