Two Thousand One, Nine Eleven
A bearded man
with stovepipe hat
Steps forward saying,
"Let's sit, let's chat"

They settle down in seats of clouds
A man named Martin shouts out proud
"I have a dream!" and once he did
The Newcomer said, "Your dream still lives."

Groups of soldiers in blue and gray
Others in khaki, and green then say
"We're from Bull Run, Yorktown, the Maine"
The Newcomer said, "You died not in vain."

From a man on sticks one could hear
"The only thing we have to fear.
The Newcomer said, "We know the rest,
trust us sir, we've passed that test."

"Courage doesn't hide in caves
You can't bury freedom, in a grave,"
The Newcomers had heard this voice before
A distinct Yankees twang from Hyannisport shores

A silence fell within the mist
Somehow the Newcomer knew that this
Meant time had come for her to say
What was in the hearts of the five thousand plus
that day

"Back on Earth, we wrote reports,
Watched our children play in sports
Worked our gardens, sang our songs
Went to church and clipped coupons

We smiled, we laughed,
we cried, we fought
Unlike you,
great we're not"

The tall man in the stovepipe hat
Stood and said, "don't talk like that!
Look at your country, look and see
You died for freedom, just like me"

Then, before them all appeared a scene
Of rubbled streets and twisted beams
Death, destruction, smoke and dust
And people working just 'cause they must

Hauling ash,
lifting stones,
Knee deep in hell
But not alone

"Look! Blackman, Whiteman, Brownman, Yellowman
Side by side helping their fellow man!"
So said Martin, as he watched the scene
"Even from nightmares, can be born a dream."

Down below three firemen raised
The colors high into ashen haze
The soldiers above had seen it before
On Iwo Jima back in '44

The man on sticks studied everything closely
Then shared his perceptions on what he saw mostly
"I see pain, I see tears,
I see sorrow - but I don't see fear."

"You left behind husbands and wives
Daughters and sons and so many lives
Are suffering now because of this wrong
But look very closely. You're not really gone.

All of those people, even those who've never met you
All of their lives, they'll never forget you
Don't you see what has happened?
Don't you see what you've done?
You've brought them together, together as one.

With that the man in the stovepipe hat said
"Take my hand," and from there he led
Five thousand plus heroes,
Newcomers to heaven
On this day, two thousand one, nine eleven

Permission to post "Two thousand one, nine eleven"
granted by author Paul Spreadbury.

"Of course you have my permission... the reason
for writing it was to provide my daughters class
with some sense of appreciating the fact that
much was gained out of the tremendous loss.
There is always a silver cloud... even when the
clouds hover over Manhattan. Besides, it wasn't
written to credit me but to credit the thousands
who loss their lives and the tens of thousands
who directly suffered the loss.

God Bless you my friend and America too.

Artist is a Pennsylvania grade school student. Name unknown.