I remember the planes,
The towers,
The jumping stoics,
The death embracing passengers,
The crushing blow of every hour.
Twenty years have passed.
And I still recall a poem I heard,
Of a person walking down the steps,
And firefighter boots walking up.
So much sadness. So much hate. So so much waste.
I've learned thoughts I'm afraid to put on paper.
That love is the only force strong enough to make an enemy
A friend.
Of the inestimable value of soft power,
And just sometimes you need a cloak and dagger.
Stone walled optimism is the only disposition
Worth having.
And maybe, just maybe, you can see the face of God,
In our enemy.
~~~
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels
~~~
אֵין-הַמֶּלֶךְ, נוֹשָׁע בְּרָב-חָיִל (תהילים לג:טז)
A king can not save (even) with a large army (Psalms 33:16).