There is a story behind this poem, and how it came to be. I had started writing it the night before the terrorst attack on the twin towers, on the day of the attack i remember sitting aghast, just staring at the tv, having to keep reminding myself that this was no movie that i was watching, this was real. when i returned to my poem it turned into something different to it was on its origional creation.
Look at the shape of the words
forming their silent palendromes
look at the sound of the voice
how small can he make you feel?
did you stumble over the self evident truths?
see the pierot with his epee
stands before the heir apparent
bowing to the majesty of bonhomie.
The voice, so called mnemonic
stands by the lychgate, sees the fallen in their droves
silent again, yielded, ruefull.
when the lights go down and the tone turns to mockery
and the echoes of yesterday returns to haunt you again
by dawn as the crow flies
and the cock a doodle doo awakens us
the fires still burn in the rubble
reminders of the day they came
even in a world gone mad we cry
that was the moment we were as one.
it was never to be a lasting thought
and nations parted again
how quickly we forget
but this time the evidence remains
and a day etched on our minds
to recall for years to come
terror brought upon us by hands that bleed
a heart numb and unsacred
tears in the eyes of man woman and child
a scapegoat searched for but never found
do not let bygons pass you by.
c. andrew bedell
