September 11

Thoughts on September 11, 2001.

Here is something I wrote on September 11, 2001, the day of the 9/11 attacks.

A Farewell to the Demons

9-11 ... The day when darkness emerged from the cracks and crevices of the earth and tried to block the light of the sun with a hideous plume of black smoke and dust. The war that we now engage will know no national boundaries, nor will it be focused on any race or ethnicity. This is the war of light vs. darkness, good vs. evil. The enemy we fight are not faceless. They are those who gather in secret enclaves and inhabit the dark nether regions of the earth. They cannot bear light and are found in clefts and cracks, much like bugs who squirm when a rock is lifted and they are bombarded by light. These beings masquerade as human, yet they are not. There is no reflection in their eyes, for they are bereft of heart and spirit. They are only bodies that steal air to maintain their hearts of darkness. These are secret combinations whose master is mayhem.

We shall fight this war against these beings and all who would harbor them.

Some groups and nations have come to believe that these beings are "fundamentalists" who do what they do for a righteous reason in the name of god. Those sorry people! Why is it that they cannot see that these beings do not worship any god .... they only worship and serve pure evil. It will be too bad for those who have been duped into believing that these faceless demons are heroes. There is nothing heroic about killing defenseless people and then hiding behind women and children. Those who fire their AK-47s and dance in the street when they learn of the death of thousands are simple fools who are the dross and refuse of humanity and they shall join the demons on the dunghill of history.

Thus we say to these demons and their ignorant minions: enjoy the night while it lasts, for the daylight is coming. As the light breaks through into your crevices, it will be too late for you. You will briefly squirm and try to scurry to the back of the cave. But this light will be a laser such as you could never conceive. This light will be terrible and swift and it will be powered by the love, compassion, and concern of a billion human hearts. There is nowhere for you to run, so be patient. The light is coming and after you and those who harbor you are obliterated, it will be as if you never existed. You do not even exist now. Goodbye.

Randall P. Jensen (September 11, 2001)

On September 11, 2006 (the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks), I wrote the following poem.

A September Dream

The alarm clock and the radio
tried to take your sleep away.
The sun came up as it always does
on a bright late summer day.

Watered eyes in a bathroom sink
and a sip from the morning brew.
A quick kiss dashing out the door
towards a fate you never knew.

The elevator filled with workers
and finally held no more.
To the hundredth floor where no eyes met
while you ambled out the door.

Through clear windows you gave a glance
to the New York streets below.
The computer screen and CNN
told you all you'd need to know.

As you settled in, something caught your eye
through the window to your right.
A flash, a bang and shudder
filled the sky with a burning light.

The building swayed as you fell to the floor
while dark smoke filled the air.
What's happened? How can this be?
you thought as you reached the stair.

You opened the door to a sickening sight,
the people already dead.
The heat and gas and flame and smoke
and you thought about what you said.

To your wife and son and daughter
when you rushed out from your home.
"Clean up your room and make your bed,
stop wasting time on the phone!"

You slowly walked to the window
and gazed out towards the sea.
If I could just talk to them one more time
before my trip to eternity.

You lifted the phone to a scratching sound
but you dialed it anyway.
And a wonderful lovely faraway voice
saying, "Honey, it's a beautiful day."

And then the building crumbled
in a tower of smoke and flame.
You rode it down and all they found
was a paper with your name.

But penciled on the paper
was a message written clear.
"To my wife and son and daughter ...
we will always be close and dear.

"My family, life is beautiful,
and you need to know one thing.
I love you more that you'll ever know
and you'll hear me when you sing.

"The smoke and dust will dissipate
with the winds off to the stream.
But your daddy's soul will never die ...
I will be there in your dreams."