IT’S NINE TO ELEVEN
2003
 
Two years of hurt and misery
That seems, like yesterday
To think, it still brings tears
At least, does me that way.
 
Can’t imagine, with a loved one
Or, even a close friend
Guess, I could be far removed
It wasn’t mine, who met their end.
 
But, in that days’ memory 
A little bit of each loved soul
Adds their little, special bit
That, makes up, the whole.
 
A small piece of all Americans
And, all people who live free
Bring a little something, to it
To what, the rest, will see.
 
So, we must show resolve
Not, let them see us sway
Except, when our heads bow
For, those lost, that day.
 
Del "Abe" Jones
Nine days to eleven, 2003
permission granted

God Bless America.

Land that I love
Stand beside her, and guide her
Thru the night with a light from above.
From the mountains, to the prairies ,
To the oceans, white with foam
God bless America
My home sweet home.

God Bless America,
Land that I love
Stand beside her,
And guide her,
Through the night
With the light from above,
From the mountains,
To the prairies,
To the ocean,
White with foam,
God bless America,
My home sweet home.
God bless America,
My home sweet home.
 

The Power of Freedom

I know you're celebrating 
what your evil deeds have wrought 
But with the devastation 
something else you've also brought 

For nothing is more powerful 
than Americans who unite 
Who put aside their differences 
and for freedom fight 

Each defenseless victim whose 
untimely death you caused 
And every fallen hero 
whose brave life was lost 

Has only served to strengthen 
our national resolve 
Each freedom-loving citizen 
will surely get involved 

You've galvanized our nation 
into a force so strong 
We'll end your reign of terror 
although the fight is long 

For every heart that's broken 
ten million will stand tall 
and every tear that's falling 
is the mortar for it all 

And when this war is over 
one thing I know is sure 
Our country will be greater 
and our freedom will endure 

Author: 
Diana Hoffman

We sat at the table eating our breakfast,
And talking with those who were taking our places,
When over the speakers came the familiar sound
Of our toners to tell us of trouble down town.

We laughed as our brothers jumped up talking surly,
About having to start off their day quite this early.
But the dispatcher’s voice was unusually strained,
The World Trade Center has just been hit by a plane.

The urgency  grew as each machine started.
Then we all loaded up and, one by one, each departed.
Acting only on information that we’d gleaned,
Not knowing our fates which still lay unforeseen.

It looked more like a movie as conditions revealed,
A towering inferno, but this one was real.
The thick smoke was rising as we looked toward the sky,
We all knew there were hundreds or thousands inside.

We stepped from our rigs grabbed our halogen and axe,
A couple of pike poles and our high rise packs.
Then our captain said men listen up here’s our plan,
Let’s go straight to the top and bring down who we can.

Without hesitation we entered the building, 
Passing terrified faces of those who were leaving.
Reassuring the people as we always do, 
Saying "we’ll get you out" and  "we won’t leave you."

As we moved onward and upward floor after floor,
We heard a chilling transmission, another plane hit next door.
Hanging on to our belief that what we’re doing is right,
We continued our mission, our goal firmly in sight.

Break rooms, bathrooms, offices and hallways, 
No door left unopened, each room searched as always.
Endlessly hoping that no one was missed,
For no second chances would ever exist.

The groans from the weakening structural steel,
Told my brothers and me that our fate had been sealed.
With the sadness of knowing we could not save them all,
We stood shoulder to shoulder as we felt our building fall.

So mourn for our passing but not how we passed,
We knew each alarm could someday be our last.
Remember instead the lives that we touched,
And that we died together doing a job that we loved.

by, Aldo G. Scott 
Peoria Illinois Fire Dept. local #50