Wednesday, September 11, 2002
" Courage is not the absence of fear, but the decision that somthing is more important than
being afraid."
" The brave might not live as long; but the cautious don't live at all."
- Mia's father on "The princess diaries."
Its September 11th again. I can't believe its been a year already. I can still see vividly in my mind's eye the immages of death and fear. I'm sure they will continue to torment us collectively - at least I hope they will. So many people made streight for the church when the towers fell, but where are they now?
I just attended my campus memorial service. It was respectfully done - but curiously Godless. It seemed that people wanted to point somewhere for comfort but didn't quite know where. I'm so choked with emotion at this moment I'm not sure I would have done any good. Numb once again might better say my feelings. The media that day shocked the life out of everyone old enough to understand. We were all over saturated with shots of what looked like a war zone. Everyone was so hopeless.
Ali was over my house for the night on Sept 10th. We stayed up till at least 4am - like silly girls who like to be together I suppose. I remember waking up to my mother telling me that a plane had crashed into one fo the Twin Towers. "Not true," I thought. "There are laws and air traffic regulations that stop things like that." The vision of a little Cessna 182 ramming into the top of a tower floated through my mind and I jumped out of bed and ran to the TV. There it was - sure as day - a large passanger jet plowing into the side of the WTC Twin Tower. I thought I was seeing a re-run untill the news caster started crying saying "Oh god! Not another one!" It seemed like a life time later when the large, toxic, coulds that covered the city finally drifted away. Everything was covered in a fine layer of white dust - from the center of NYC all the way to California I'm sure. I still hurt when I think of all the innocence that was lost. Some how we all grew up - all us ordinary people sitting infront of the TV for hours and hours - watching and wishing we could do something. I can immagine how many unspoken vows were made that day. How many have been followed through? I know for me - I'm still on my knees at the feet of Jesus. I won't let anyone cross my path without knowing why we survived 9.11. My cry is "Give me souls as my reward." Oh God, please do.
The Powerful Hand stops just short of the box, pausing, as if regretting somthing not yet done. It
reaches and opens, letting in five faceless instruments who never see the box shut behind them.
Soaring in the air high above, it holds a match and watches as those who would ignite it take
control with such confidence. "My God!" The strike! - the heat of impact, the faceless men have
souls. Hearts lurch forward to absorb the shock and people rain from the skies. The flame held
high up in the air can be seen by millions - wiling or not - as it eats up their kind. Blasts of air
and poping sounds pop ears, fire pours down and clouds pour up. The match touches the fuse as
the city falls with a sickening roar and simoultaniously a nation hits rock bottom. Ear to ear
the spark races through. Man to man, future to future, all looking for eachother. Hearts jerk
back into place, bloddied and broken, covered in a fine white dust, filled to capacity, pushing
the soul to its knees directly over the flame's final destination.
"When I passed by you again and looked upon you , indeed your time was the time of love; so I
spread my wings over you and covered you. Yes, I swore an oath to you and entered into a
covenant with you and you became mine." says the Lord God.
How can it be that God is love when blood rolls down upon our land, and fathers lose their only
son?
Where is the hope?
Oh God we pray-
For white ribbon day
How can it be that you could love when blood ran down that wodden cross, your father gave his
only son.
You came for peace, you came to die -
For white ribbon day
And we pray for peace to flood our hearts again,
only God can save our nation now.
And we long for joy to fill our streets again,
only God can save our nation now.
How can it be that God is just when flesh is torn from young and old?
And children run in bloody fields?
Where is the hope?
Oh God we cry-
For white ribbon day
And can it be that you are just when flesh was torn for young and old?
And here we stand saved by your blood.
We'll stand with courage, we'll live and die-
For white ribbon day.
By Deleriou5, King of fools album
being afraid."
" The brave might not live as long; but the cautious don't live at all."
- Mia's father on "The princess diaries."
Its September 11th again. I can't believe its been a year already. I can still see vividly in my mind's eye the immages of death and fear. I'm sure they will continue to torment us collectively - at least I hope they will. So many people made streight for the church when the towers fell, but where are they now?
I just attended my campus memorial service. It was respectfully done - but curiously Godless. It seemed that people wanted to point somewhere for comfort but didn't quite know where. I'm so choked with emotion at this moment I'm not sure I would have done any good. Numb once again might better say my feelings. The media that day shocked the life out of everyone old enough to understand. We were all over saturated with shots of what looked like a war zone. Everyone was so hopeless.
Ali was over my house for the night on Sept 10th. We stayed up till at least 4am - like silly girls who like to be together I suppose. I remember waking up to my mother telling me that a plane had crashed into one fo the Twin Towers. "Not true," I thought. "There are laws and air traffic regulations that stop things like that." The vision of a little Cessna 182 ramming into the top of a tower floated through my mind and I jumped out of bed and ran to the TV. There it was - sure as day - a large passanger jet plowing into the side of the WTC Twin Tower. I thought I was seeing a re-run untill the news caster started crying saying "Oh god! Not another one!" It seemed like a life time later when the large, toxic, coulds that covered the city finally drifted away. Everything was covered in a fine layer of white dust - from the center of NYC all the way to California I'm sure. I still hurt when I think of all the innocence that was lost. Some how we all grew up - all us ordinary people sitting infront of the TV for hours and hours - watching and wishing we could do something. I can immagine how many unspoken vows were made that day. How many have been followed through? I know for me - I'm still on my knees at the feet of Jesus. I won't let anyone cross my path without knowing why we survived 9.11. My cry is "Give me souls as my reward." Oh God, please do.
The Powerful Hand stops just short of the box, pausing, as if regretting somthing not yet done. It
reaches and opens, letting in five faceless instruments who never see the box shut behind them.
Soaring in the air high above, it holds a match and watches as those who would ignite it take
control with such confidence. "My God!" The strike! - the heat of impact, the faceless men have
souls. Hearts lurch forward to absorb the shock and people rain from the skies. The flame held
high up in the air can be seen by millions - wiling or not - as it eats up their kind. Blasts of air
and poping sounds pop ears, fire pours down and clouds pour up. The match touches the fuse as
the city falls with a sickening roar and simoultaniously a nation hits rock bottom. Ear to ear
the spark races through. Man to man, future to future, all looking for eachother. Hearts jerk
back into place, bloddied and broken, covered in a fine white dust, filled to capacity, pushing
the soul to its knees directly over the flame's final destination.
"When I passed by you again and looked upon you , indeed your time was the time of love; so I
spread my wings over you and covered you. Yes, I swore an oath to you and entered into a
covenant with you and you became mine." says the Lord God.
How can it be that God is love when blood rolls down upon our land, and fathers lose their only
son?
Where is the hope?
Oh God we pray-
For white ribbon day
How can it be that you could love when blood ran down that wodden cross, your father gave his
only son.
You came for peace, you came to die -
For white ribbon day
And we pray for peace to flood our hearts again,
only God can save our nation now.
And we long for joy to fill our streets again,
only God can save our nation now.
How can it be that God is just when flesh is torn from young and old?
And children run in bloody fields?
Where is the hope?
Oh God we cry-
For white ribbon day
And can it be that you are just when flesh was torn for young and old?
And here we stand saved by your blood.
We'll stand with courage, we'll live and die-
For white ribbon day.
By Deleriou5, King of fools album
Chicklette 1:09 PM
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