Rose Petals on My Hands

My home, Colorado Springs, Colorado is nestled in a crowd of military installations. To the north, the Air force academy stands against the front range of the Rockies, to the south Fort Carson spreads across a huge area, and in the middle NORAD occupies the interior of Cheyenne mountain. So it felt pretty serious when the normal transmissions on my car radio were interrupted by a announcements of gates that were being closed as all of the military establishments went into lock-down in response to the planes that were crashing into the Twin Towers.  I learned a hard little lesson about military realities in such circumstances. YOu may be surrounded by military bases, but you are on your own if there is an attack.  No one called for citizens to find sanctuary within the wire of the military establishments. You get attacked…..your screwed. Not that I resent this in any way. It would have been nice to know at the time. But we were somewhat lucky to have a basement. And I do pack heat for the up close and personal moments outside the wire. TEEHEE!

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THE HEART OF THE POEM FOUND BELOW IS THE FEELING OF HELPLESSNESS I HAD. THERE WAS NOTHING THAT I COULD DO. AND FOR A FATHER OF FIVE DAUGHTERS SUCH FEELINGS SIGNAL, “MY CHILDREN ARE IN DANGER !……….. THERE IS SOMETHING I MUST DO TO STAND IN HARMS WAY!” BUT ALL WE COULD DO, INDIVIDUALY AND AS A NATION, IS WATCH WHILE AMERICANS DIED.

In the Perfect Blue American Sky

We stood

The Family

About the dream once perfect.

Now buckling to its knees.

First the fire blossom.

Then death thunder breaking.

Down the canyons of New Jerusalem.

I looked  down at my useless hands,

Dappled in rose petals?

 

Then the rain of glass is falling.

In each a broken reflection.

 The perfect, blue,

American sky.

 

Then the children of the dream

Came tunmbeling

.And we the family stood below.

Where stone rain and blood of angels mixed.

And I looked at my useless hands;

At the bloody mortar that gloved them.

And nailed them to the ground.

 

My child fell and I could not catch her,

.She lies broken at my feet.

 

We stood, the family,

In the mourning sun, About a broken American Dream

And saw our angels rise again,

Through the smoke and dust and pain’

 

To fly, To play above again

In the blue American sky.

In the perfect, blue, American sky.

My child fell, and  I could not catch her.

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