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If It's the Last Thing I Do

 

 

September Eleventh Two Thousand and One,

the sun came up just like the day before,

It forced it's way through my window, and I cursed it,

for it beat on my eyelids like an intruder at my door.

I staggered into the kitchen and hit the on button,

for a cup of coffee to finish the sun's daily quest,

If it's the last thing I do in this life,

I'll figure out a way to get more rest.

 

I sat down at the computer to check my e-mail,

to rid my life of even more annoying crap,

Then clicked on my favorite game site,

so in between clicks I could nap.

Then suddenly the room began to buzz,

something about a plane crash in New York,

It had hit one of the twin towers,

piercing it's side like a fork.

 

Everybody was watching and reporting the events,

CNN said, ABC said, NBC said, FOX said,

Oh My God! here comes another!

and then, we began to realize how many were dead.

And for the first time in my life I was really awake,

but the sun somehow didn't shine as bright,

The spam in my inbox was nothing that mattered,

The Pentagon had been attacked, in Pennsylvania, yet another crashed flight.

 

And the live pictures made their way into every home,

as we watched as those towers crumbled like castles of sand,

People, not strangers were running for their very lives,

as the rest waited in horror wringing our hands.

They appeared as ghosts covered in gray ash,

they were begging for one breath of unsoiled air,

some were bleeding, all were crying,

they couldn't stop running, they didn't dare.

 

Within hours the streets were lined with people,

hoping for miracles that it was their loved one that escaped,

The devastating reality that most would eventually face,

is our way of American life, had just been raped.

Instead of I, our reference became We,

and We were disgruntled, twisted and confused,

We were angry, We were depressed, We were grieving,

and We wanted the head of the accused.

 

We were disgustingly entertained with photos,

of a people dancing in their oppressed dirt streets,

Burning our Flag, cursing our Leaders,

Murder Americana had become their favorite beat.

In my mind the pictures began to run,

like a nightmarish slide show without end,

I started to search for those once cursed glimmers of light,

so the wounds of darkness could mend.

 

With the last of my tears streaming down my face,

I stood beneath the serenity of God's blue sky,

I began digging for personal answers,

but there would be none that would justify.

That September morning I found a part of myself,

and I was totally unaware that it was even gone,

It was the part of my heart that carries the tune,

to life's forgiving song.

 

I had to forgive myself for being what I had become,

and for cursing God's light He sent each day,

I had to learn to forgive, for something I'd never forget,

and remember to say Thank You, when I would pray.

It will be the last thing I ever do,

for I no longer covet long hours of earthly rest,

I'll save that pleasure for my eternal trip,

but for now I'll greet God's sunrise as a welcomed guest.

 

By Lisa Hilbers

07/19/2003

BY PERMISSION

 


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