Requiem For The Fallen

                                By PHILIP A. RUE

                                 The U.S. was at peace that day

                                 as workers hurried on their way

                                 to offices and other sites.

                                 All was serene; no cause for frights.

                                 "Good morning" here, "Good morning"

                                  there,

                                 A nod, a smile, all unaware.

                                 And then they came, surprise attacks;

                                 no mercy shown by maniacs.

                                 They'd planned to execute their act

                                 with diabolical impact.

                                 The first crashed into Tower One

                                 And when that heinous deed was done

                                 The fiends crashed into Tower Two

                                 on schedule as if on cue.

                                 Our Pentagon became the third.

                                 Around the world the shots were

                                 heard.

                                 A fourth attack was target short,

                                 plane passengers caused the abort.

                                 Unnecessary loss of life

                                 cut through the U.S. like a knife.

                                 With targets, humans pulverized,

                                 these innocents were victimized

                                 by terrorists whose goal is "Kill

                                 Americans, kill them at will."

                                 The plight of rescuers was sad;

                                 with smoke and fire they were had.

                                 Poor devastated families

                                 whose grief will never feel appease.

                                 Their friends, and colleagues, and the

                                 nation

                                 in disbelief and supplication

                                 wept, disconsolate and shocked,

                                 but they cannot turn back the clock.

                                 Now repercussions will transcend;

                                 we do not know where they will end.

                                 This sneak attack we must avenge.

                                 The crime's too great for no revenge.

                                 Consoling us before we brace,

                                 the bagpipes play "Amazing Grace."

                                 The mournful tones we hear prolonged

                                 console us some; we have been

                                 wronged.