In those strawberry fields, it seemed
They all marched too alive and real.
The unknowing, maybe sensing, screamed
“There’s no Jericho here to heal!”
In no small way, I understood,
The child watching that television,
There was more evil to match good,
When a plane made its second collision.
That’s when we realized the hardness of tomorrow
Mistakenly seen enough to tell
This was an attack our hearts had to sorrow
This, we knew, when the towers fell.
Still, we remember those things we felt
And try our best to seize the day
We remember when those watching knelt
Heart broken or fighting? Too close to say.
Beneath the rubble of the truth -
Heroes, lovers, sinners, thieves -
Beneath the terror of our youth -
We are all these things beneath.
That does not mean we are all to blame
Though, every one of us is lost
It doesn’t mean our mistakes got a name
Even still, we must pay our cost.
In our busy lives and concerning fates
There is a truth we must admit
As the prices rise and the moment rates
We must be reminded not to forget
There is a time to step back and see
At the demanding cry to all be free
That all that is asked, is a prayer to be
To Him, as He sorrows - cries…