Poem: A Thousand Stories.
a black box could tell a thousand stories
a quiet Tuesday
quite like any other
a silent thunder
thunder
screams
silence
a camera can show a thousand faces
a soil stained red
red like many others
a victor’s glory
glory
wrought
God’s name
in God’s name
in God’s name
in the name of God
a pair of eyes can count a thousand bodies
wrought in pride
wrought in circumstance
mutual understanding
of evils
of wrongdoing
of existence
brought to kneel
beg God
beg God for
retribution
beg God for a solution
always as simple as a problem:
a nocturne to shattered corpses
a dirge to distant culture
a concerto to annihilation
one hand can take a thousand lives
mutual misinformation
wrought in pride
wrought out of love-
a black box could tell a thousand stories
a silenced Tuesday
quite unlike any other
Not the first of my works about 11 September 2001. If you consider it, my entire body of work is about 11 September 2001. A handful are this direct. This is my tenth anniversary piece. Eyes of sixteen years or of twenty-six, plans, planes and hand grenades bear the confusion of a generation, the dreams of a dying civilization, the bread and water of third-world countries. Peace eludes us, without and within, because we still stare backward with closed, teary eyes. A thousand stories are heard, but never understood.
"A Thousand Stories", dated 8 September 2011. A simple reflection on Generation Why's pivotal event, ten years ago today, and a legacy not many of us have cared to think about.
a quiet Tuesday
quite like any other
a silent thunder
thunder
screams
silence
a camera can show a thousand faces
a soil stained red
red like many others
a victor’s glory
glory
wrought
God’s name
in God’s name
in God’s name
in the name of God
a pair of eyes can count a thousand bodies
wrought in pride
wrought in circumstance
mutual understanding
of evils
of wrongdoing
of existence
brought to kneel
beg God
beg God for
retribution
beg God for a solution
always as simple as a problem:
a nocturne to shattered corpses
a dirge to distant culture
a concerto to annihilation
one hand can take a thousand lives
mutual misinformation
wrought in pride
wrought out of love-
a black box could tell a thousand stories
a silenced Tuesday
quite unlike any other
Not the first of my works about 11 September 2001. If you consider it, my entire body of work is about 11 September 2001. A handful are this direct. This is my tenth anniversary piece. Eyes of sixteen years or of twenty-six, plans, planes and hand grenades bear the confusion of a generation, the dreams of a dying civilization, the bread and water of third-world countries. Peace eludes us, without and within, because we still stare backward with closed, teary eyes. A thousand stories are heard, but never understood.
"A Thousand Stories", dated 8 September 2011. A simple reflection on Generation Why's pivotal event, ten years ago today, and a legacy not many of us have cared to think about.