Poems by Pat Fleming

The horror we endured that day,
The shock, the pain, the fear.
A nightmare unimaginable
To those of us still here.

Dust and ashes, souls swept away,
A city brought down to her knees.
The losses so horrendous,
Visions too monstrous to believe.

The devastating images
In all our hearts remain.
The destruction of humanity
Left us all forever changed.

The faces of those cruelly lost
Are burned inside our minds
And the mournful tears still resonate
Of those loved ones left behind.

The heroes and the victims,
The acts of courage through that hell.
The tales of stunning miracles
That each survivor lived to tell.

Human beings blindly reaching out
To save the strangers in their wake.
Risking all without a thought
Just for someone else's sake.

A ravaged, urban war zone
Now just remnants of mankind.
An incomprehensible catastrophe
That stopped all sense of time.

How could we ever rise again?
Was there a way to make things right?
Did any fight still live inside of us?
Was there any hope in sight?

We fought for our humanity!
We carried on for those we lost!
We kept on moving forward
For those who paid so dear a cost!

Decades have passed and here we stand,
Our flag waves boldly in the breeze.
It's our faith in God and country
That now brings us to our knees!

Names etched in bronze with pride and sorrow
So the world remembers them.
It's the power of their memory
That helped to make us strong again!

The moon reflects the fallen snow
And makes it light as day
I lay awake upon my bed,
As the clock tick tocks away.

A sound pierces the silence,
Perhaps a sleigh upon the roof.
And rushing to the chimney,
The clip clop of reindeer's hooves.

My heart fills with excitement.
Could Santa Claus be there?
I gently tip toe from my room
And down the wreath-lined stairs.

Then almost in a whisper,
I hear a Ho, Ho, Ho!
And spy a hulking shadow
In the trees' prismatic glow.

I peek around the corner,
And sitting in Dad's chair
Is Santa Claus in all his glory,
Munching cookies I prepared.

His cheeks are pudgy, rosy red,
And his eyes are kind and bright.
I feel frozen there right where I stand,
Bewitched by such a sight.

He seems a happy fellow,
As he finishes his snack.
His bulbous belly shakes with glee
As he gathers up his sack.

And then I see beneath the tree,
Toys of every size.
Everything I ever wished for,
Laid out before my eyes.

And there beside the chimney,
As he prepares to take his leave,
Santa gives a hearty Ho, Ho, Ho!
Then winks and waves at me.

Then suddenly he vanishes,
As the chimney shakes with soot.
And all I see at that last moment
Are his black and shiny boots.

I feel so sad and thoughtless
As I watch him cross the sky.
I never even thanked him
Or wished him luck and said good-bye.

Well, next year will be different,
For I'll be waiting there.
And when Santa makes his visit,
I'll show him just how much I care.

I'll knit for him the longest scarf
To keep the cold at bay
And a huge and cozy blanket
To warm his lap inside his sleigh.

And when it's time for him to go,
He'll not use the chimney anymore,
For I will shake my good friend's hand
And blithely walk him to the door.

The endless green of summer
Has turned to golds and reds,
While the leaves are all a flutter,
Making pillows for our heads.

The hot, aggressive summer sun
Now hides behind the clouds,
Creating dreamlike shadows
That reflect the world around.

The trees have changed their summer greens
To the warmth of autumn hues.
And a chilly early morning frost
Has replaced the summer dew.

The sound of weekend mowers
And the sight of lawns so green
Are echoes now of Autumn rakes,
And piles of aging leaves.

The whisper of the summer breeze
Has reluctantly flown away,
As the stronger push of the Autumn wind
Has defiantly taken its place.

And the happy mood of the summer sun
Has weakened in its fight,
As the darker mood of Autumn
Has coldly diminished its light.

And in the chill of the afternoon,
As the children play in the leaves,
The smell of fireplaces burning,
Give the promise of a cozy eve.

And you're filled with anticipation
For pumpkins and Halloween.
For hay rides and candy apples
And ghostly sights to see.

Oh yes, the fall is finally here,
And its glory fills your heart.
And you breathe that air so crisp and clear
And pray that it never parts.

Lately when I wake each day,
The sunlight hurts my eyes,
And when I think of yesterday,
I want to just curl up and cry.

It seems that life is getting harder,
My sense of loneliness extreme,
My sadness more disabling,
And the abuse now more routine.

I've discovered a reality
That has consumed my very life,
Which is sometimes even breathing
Can become a constant fight.

There are moments so exhausting
From the internal, chronic pain,
That death itself seems like a blessing
Because living life's become my bane.

I thought that age would garner needed peace,
A final freedom for my soul.
But instead, the chaos and the conflict
Have grown worse as I've grown old.

It seems that some of those bad choices
That I made along the way
Remain with me just like my shadow
And will chase me to my grave.

It only takes one other person
To change your life into a hell
And make your home a ceaseless battlefield
Rather than the haven where you dwell.

My compassion and my tolerance
Proved my most pathetic traits.
They were my vices hiding in disguise
That led me to my wretched fate.

I believed in love and people changing.
I overestimated my own skills.
I thought that I could transform anyone
Through my sheer intellect and will.

Now it's far too late for changes now
The Monster's reached his grandest scale
And compared to him in all his glory,
My aged strength and weapons pale.

But I discovered an advantage,
Which I hope to master soon.
Providing that this nightmare
Doesn't render me a hopeless loon.

I now accept my dreary prison,
And I accept there's no escape.
I accept that through this misery
My heart and soul I may forsake.

I have discovered that one's death can come
Even when their heart is beating
And that instead of fighting back sometimes
The wiser move is in retreating.

I will stay silent and invisible.
I won't challenge or debate.
I'll play possum for my enemy
And perhaps I will stay safe.

At last, my fate will rest with God above
And my perdition will be done
Whether the Monster meets his just defeat
Or my own eternal rest will come.

In the damp, dusty cellar, surrounded by boxes,
Our excitement just grows without measure.
Searching and sorting with loud shouts of glee,
As we uncovered the grand Christmas treasure.

Christmas lights in a ball, but Dad's not deterred,
As with a purpose, he heads out the door.
And I spy from the window, for the time has now come,
For Dad to adorn our front porch.

The weather is frigid, his breath floats in the air,
And the sky is the deepest of gray.
The spirit of Christmas can be felt everywhere,
With the promise of snow on the way.

So I watch as my Dad makes his plan of attack,
While I sit comfy, cozy inside.
But I knew in my heart where I needed to be,
Out there shivering, but right by his side.

So I bundle up tight and I head out the door,
Nothing can stand in my way.
And I knew by his smile and his pat on my back
That he truly was glad that I came.

Now perfectionist Dad always knew what to do,
And for him every light had its place.
So together we stood, completing our task,
Precious memories these moments would make.

Under an ominous sky large snowflakes appeared,
And it seemed that the time had just flown.
But we both were determined to finish the job,
Though tired and chilled to the bone.

As the last light was placed, complete darkness prevailed,
We had accomplished our goal just in time.
The smell of Mom's cooking floated by in the air,
And the feeling of success was sublime.

Now into the house, I run with such joy,
To summon all family to come.
And we stand on the street, as Dad plugs in the lights,
Illuminating our world one by one.

For certain it's Christmas and my heart feels so full,
With the beauty of color and shimmer.
But being with Dad sharing time in the cold
Is forever what I will remember!

Our political views mean nothing,
There are no sides to take.
Both young and old must be prepared
To fight for all our sakes.

Guns and tanks are tinker toys;
Violence has no place.
Our enemy creeps silently
Without a single trace.

The world must share this battle;
There are no neutral zones.
We must stand united in our hearts,
Though standing quite alone.

Our basic need for human touch,
For now must be denied.
And we must find inventive ways
To convey what lies inside.

Our heroes aren't our generals,
With medals on their chests.
But those nurses and those doctors,
Who our lives we have bequest.

We wake each day to numbers,
Again there's thousands more.
Neighbors, friends, and family,
Our casualties of war.

We've lost things we took for granted,
That made us feel alive.
And now within our prison walls,
We must find a way to thrive.

But we never will surrender
Or let our lights grow dim.
It's our humanness that will prevail
And set us free again.

Those people who we've never met,
In places far away,
Must face this same relentless foe,
That we too must face each day.

And so we are united,
One people standing strong.
Pushing through this darkest time,
Until again we greet the dawn.

The world outside is a wondrous place,
Filled with many miracles to see.
It's a place to hear and smell and feel.
It's a place so unfettered and free.

From the welcome warmth of the morning sun,
As it plays upon your eyes,
Enticing you from your slumber
To awaken and come alive.

Or the gentle touch of an Autumn breeze,
As it chills and caresses your face,
Beckoning you to start your day
And let go of the night's embrace.

The sound of the birds as they twitter and sing,
Still nestled in the warmth of the trees.
Soon they will lift their wings in flight,
Shooed away by the fluttering leaves.

To smell that earthy, Autumn air,
As you step outside and breathe.
To hear that steady, familiar crunch,
As you wade through the dried, dead leaves.

To look up and get lost in a ceiling-less sky,
Deep blue or an ominous grey.
Squinting against the brightest of suns,
Or getting soaked by a sudden, cold rain.

To feel beads of sweat on your clammy face,
In the heat of a blistering day.
Then submerge in a river that seeps through your skin,
Dousing the fire in your veins.

To trudge through the deepest, blistering snow,
As the ice stings your rosy red cheeks.
To smell all the fireplaces burning,
As those faint of heart retreat.

To see your breath float on the air,
As your toes and fingers freeze.
And witness an icy, white blanket of snow,
Just as far as you can see.

The snowflakes falling harder now,
The earth is in a blur.
Your clothes feel damp and heavier,
Your speech begins to slur.

Yes, the outside is a wondrous place,
A world of beauty and brawn.
It's independent but so reliable.
It's vulnerable and yet so strong.

Remember the smell of the summer flowers,
With bright colors all around?
Deep green lawns and the aroma of grass,
Trees plush with leaves abound.

The ocean's glistening, thundering waves,
The gritty, infinite sands.
The forests of trees that reach up to the sky,
The mountains that tower over the land.

The outside world is an endless place.
It shows us how small we can be.
It can nurture and comfort our troubled hearts.
It can grant us sweet moments of peace. 

If you take the time to really see,
The outside is a glorious place.
And how lucky we are that this Paradise,
Is only a few steps away.