story20669.xml

story20669.xml

born-digital

story

yes

no

2006-09-11

My story is here somewhere, buried within five years of words and images. Today, September 11, 2006, I offer this poem as a reflection of how our lives have changed five years later:

I have been accused of burying myself beneath layers of fear and uncertainty
obscured from a world created outside the realm of my own
I ask that you allow me this brief indulgence
although your accusations may not be denied
neither will my skin be bared
exposed to the stones that you might throw

Permit me instead to argue my lucidity
describing a world with no necessity for war
where mothers need not fear the thought of sons becoming men
A moment when we did not crave an explanation of our existence
wondering why we fought so arduously for other worlds and people
while ignoring our own slowly crumbling at its edges

At the risk of imitating lecture
I would remind you of the way a child views the world,
of how we once were able to view it as well
until it exploded in a matter of minutes
and terror seeped from our pores
thick as black, billowing smoke
obscuring blue skies
clouding our own definition of liberty
robbing even our children of innocence and purity that day

We once possessed a confidence some now consider ignorance
a confidence now replaced by doubt, suspicion, and condescendence
Religion or race, it does not matter, difference is condemnation once again

I do stand guilty of tuning out a world which screams in my face of duty and rights
while it whispers revenge and Armageddon from behind a shadowed hand
Yet, before you doubt that I am listening
or believe I have been living in oblivion
trust that I hear it all, observe it all
every nuance is stored behind these eyes
You cannot charge me with nescience, nor indict me for turning away

You can keep your world of hate and indiscretion
wallow in it and believe that you are just and true
From the safety of my walls, I will watch as carnage rips it at its seams
Struggling to keep the realm of my world intact, no matter how small it may be

My children will know innocence and objectivity, for I will teach them each
They will also be wise to the ways of this world we now inhabit
without allowing it to poison their hearts, minds, or souls
They will understand the definition of equality, not just by rote, but by influence

Mere layers separate your world from mine, thin as parchment and just as fragile
created not out of fear or uncertainty, but knowledge, promise, and something else,
a word it seems we have all forgotten...
Hope.

RSS August 25, 2006