to answer her quaking question
a day or two before the anniversary
of the attacks in her brother’s home town
To assuage her sudden fears,
casual sharing of a presidential candidate’s
positions, the flier in her lap,
to discussions of terrorists,
that they wouldn’t strike here,
in our quiet city; but in
the same kinds of places;
but “that is where my brother lives…”
“Where will they strike?”
Truth that I don’t know, that we
do not know where the next attack
will come, when it will come;
but truth too that if we change our lives,
if we fear and let that freeze us,
focus our thoughts too long there,
they have won, as surely as when
the attacks will come
Resolve to continue on
to live our lives, perhaps more humbly;
but live our lives fully
without fearing what
the madmen may do or
where they may attack
September 11, 2007 10:43AM
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by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009,
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Ray Foss (raymondafoss@gmail.com)
for usage. See all 41,680+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
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