It Was the Eleventh of September

I wrote this many years ago, and just found it yesterday (the 10th) when looking for poems to include in an upcoming book. It’s been sitting on a shelf and never shared. It’s not every good, but with the utmost respect to survivors, first responders, and families of the lost I offer my inadequate words.

Innocent faces with love in their hearts,
Now speaking words of death with pain in their eyes.
Used as weapons against their country,
Why the children?

They were travelling with parents,
Or visiting places of work.
What kinds of demons would do this?
Why the children?

So young with dreams of being a dancer,
An astronaut, a sports star.
Crushed with our nation’s pride,
Why the children?

Some of them now alone,
Just because their parents were working, shopping, living.
Now alone because of some madman’s evil plan,
Why the children?

With no thoughts of greed, malice, or evil,
They went about their lives which were snatched away,
By one who is all these things.
Why the children?

Like candles whose flames should last forever,
But were pinched out by an uncaring hand.
Why the children, why the children?
Why?