Independence Day Poem

9/11 Poem

This poem was written to show how strong our country is and will always be as long as we continue to keep hold of the true values it was built on.

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Someone asked me how it feels. My heart aches, my thoughts are empty. My mom, my brother, six months apart. They are gone. A part of me went with them. Life isn't the same. A arm, maybe a...

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Destruction Is Our Strength

©

Published by Family Friend Poems June 2014 with permission of the Author.

4..3..2..1..

We fall.
Crashing onto our weakened knees and pray.
Smoke fills the unstained air,
As our screams are drowned out
By the silence of the unknown.

Remembered-not,
Are the gorgeous sun rays that warmed the earth,
Not the way the autumn breeze
Calmed the frigid sky.
We forget-not the way our lives were
R O C K E D,
            S H A K E N
                     and D E S T R O Y E D
By the incompetence of crazed maniacs.

Our nation is scorned when the first tower falls.
S T U N N E D,
            F R A N T I C
             and left S P E E C H L E S S.
As the second plane collides
Into the little pride we have left,
Our mouths drop in disbelief.

All we can do is stand back
And watch while reality is stripped bare;
As hearts are demolished by every stone
That separates them for loved ones...
We are reborn into hell.

We have fallen along-side our monuments
And the nation's pride is consumed by flames.
While our enemies cheer as debris hit the ground
And celebrate our blood stained streets.

We, by the destruction of our nation,
Are given the strength to fight back.

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Has this poem touched you? Share your story!
  • Doris Cary Mississippi by Doris Cary Mississippi
  • 9 years ago

Someone asked me how it feels. My heart aches, my thoughts are empty. My mom, my brother, six months apart. They are gone. A part of me went with them. Life isn't the same. A arm, maybe a leg. Parts of me are missing. Mom arms can't hug me no more. My brother can't walk with me no more. Someone asked me how does it feel. Count the tears that I have cried into a river, that I named PAIN. A river of tears that will never end. Only keep on flowing down my face.

  • Elsa Rosenfeld by Elsa Rosenfeld
  • 9 years ago

I hope you are right. Many try to destroy the red, white and blue, which at times we are not even allowed to hang up in front of our doors.
I pray, I pray for the America I once knew.

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