Its a shame,
I did not dream with angels today.
They're missing, they surely must be busy.
Its September Eleven, on T.V in New York I see them.
Where they are? inside my heart.
Who ever you are, this day on you will not be forgotten.
Sisters, Brothers and for now Dear Strangers every time a rose blossoms.
You will be loved and remembered.
This outcry pours like rain to a city without a dry eye.
The heart of a promise echoes as we will with stand these times
with our heads up high. Healing comes with a hefty price.
Restless spirits brigade,
Spread your wings and give trails to where our ancestors once laid.
We cannot afford to be late and have the party begin with out our vengeful sway.
The tunes of bullets, missiles and mans mistake where Sparrows once sang
now march with the dead.
I do not want to miss a thing or two,
I wont blink unless I am thinking of you.
A one way ticket to your heart is where I want to be,
The trigger is pulled and to be with you one last time
is now a relic of a memory.
Do I need to climb the highest mountain to be seen?
with arms up surrendering to victory.
waiting for you so I can catch you in my arms as you fall.
my arms long to hold you once more in love not in war.
another casualty for what cause?
all excerpts from this poem are by J.Q
originally published in Clubhouse Newsletters,
Hollywood & Vine 2002.
also published in Evans Journal Academy Newsletter 2003,
Los Angeles.
all rights reserved.
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