The refrain
of a song I wrote that day, simply titled “9-11”
And
the serpent slithers away,
Spitting
the bitter taste of evil
into
our gaping mouths....
Looks
like life is not a garden after all.
The
trunks of the Apple tree have toppled,
And
the tree rings were erased
By
the snake tracks that defaced
the
land we love....
Looks
like life is not a garden after all.
Another passage from a thematically similar poem I wrote in 2001, “Martial Arts”
Combustible humans,
Ignited by the most potent
explosive, Hatred,
Fermented over thousands of
years,
Since the first vile act of
Cain against Abel,
Smirk as they advance upon
us;
Armed with the crudest
weapons
And delusions of grandeur—
And we crumble from
disillusionment
About the definition of
power.