Not many people left who recall
The Attack
firsthand, though I try to imagine what
it must've been like for my widowed
grandmother raising three children
alone in a time of
great anxiety and insurmountable fear.
We swore we would never forget,
words repeated again and again and again --
dropping not one but two
Atom Bombs
on a foreign nation gorged with hubris;
tangling in wars where we've no business other than
Containment;
watching planes fly into buildings for want of
nonexistent virgins bathed in the blood of hate.
When on a December morning
what a sound that must've been:
Enraged Bees of Battle gaining momentum,
a tsunami of death and destruction.
scrambling to save a nation
to keep our spaces safe
have given way to
genderless whining
for safe spaces.
We have forgotten,
though we swore
we never would.
