From the Ashes Comes the Phoenix! A 9/11 Memorial Poem

© 2013 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

The sky was blue and cheerful and the birds sang sweet in trees.
The travelers' destinations varied: some business, some families.
Boarding the plane they thought of things of every day;
Of wedding plans, of keeping kids quiet, of bills they had to pay.

Then sky blue terror, terror, terror, as men stood up and screamed,
and the men attacked and killed, killed and killed again,
to bring America to its knees
and buildings became targets, although one plane fought back,
they screamed of their god's greatness, forgetting his mercy*.

And in the buildings there was nothing to warn them of the day
of the day that would bring horror, agony and pain,
until they looked from Tower One and saw the too-close plane.
Closer, closer, closer it came until...

Flame and crash and burn and fumes and stench of burning flesh
And can't breathe and running blind, no lights, no air, no escape
and heart's pounding, running, running, running,
hearing the screams, terror and pain and smelling
the smells of what is the same of the fear in your own heart.

Voices calling, calling, calling, begging "Help me!" or
calling "This way!" in the flame, flame and smoke,
of the burning, burning, burning; eyes, throat burning
and the building's frame melting down.

And death surrounds them and fear drives them and all around them
the flames, the flames, the flames. And the roaring of
the burning and the oxygen leaves the building
as the people scream and fall and fall and fall
and they wonder if they should join them.

While on the ground and all around the world is
watching, watching, watching, and although our minds
refuse to find a reason worth this action, our hearts stood still
and breath failed to find escape or inhalation
astonishment took away all function except the watching.

Soon building two felt the impact, the impact of the plane,
the plane of their failing, failing of the tower, failing of the safety
the safety of America. The change had begun with the impact
of the tower, the impact of the death, of the death of the thousands
the thousands of the people.

As people came down, down, down to the ground to escape
the flaming buildings, to breathe a breath not burning,
the heroes there helped others down and saved lives and
heart ache for many. And the police, fire department and
ambulances, risked lives to save those still waiting. Then
they looked up as tower two was struck and tears fell throughout the nation.

Somewhere in the sky, two planes flying by were headed for targets
of their own. The Pentagon, with its walls so strong, was
target three that day. And with similar rage the third page
of the plan of terror was writ. Inside that plane, as in the others,
phone calls told loved ones of their doom, doom, doom.

And the towers fell, two buildings down, down, down,
hitting the ground and the rumble, rumble, rumble,
forever in the hearts, shaking our hearts, breaking our hearts,
Shocked and terrified, our hearts cried out, breaking, but
already rising from the ashes, the rolling, rolling ashes.

And the smoke came billowing, billowing, billowing,
blowing down the street, rushing down the street and filling in the blanks,
the blanks of the city, the City of New York, City of the terror, the terror of the moment,
of the shock, of the death, of the hatred killing innocents and the innocents knowing
nothing, nothing of the reason, the reason of their deaths.

People were running, running, running as the ashes and the dust
billowed through the streets and the ashes covered, covered, covered,
choked and hid, blew and slid into each crevice and opening. Eyes
burned, couldn't breathe and the towers were no more... nor were the people.

The search soon began and the reality sunk in and the truth of the day's
deeds were known. Four planes were down, down without landing, and
the death toll was enormous. As people streamed in to help with the search
for living and help needing; or those beyond the help of the dawn
and the task was so overwhelming.

But take it up, we did, no reality hid, as the search was on for
who did this. We found the names of eleven "to blames" and then
the names of those gone. Strange to think it took less time to find
the guilty, than lives of innocence taken. Three thousand gone,
to never see dawn, and their families' lives truly shaken.

And the broken, broken, broken hearts ache still with the loss
and the memorials won't replace the day of tragic cost
and when the anniversary comes 'round again, again, again
the day we all commemorate the day the earth stood still
and none of us could breathe as in unison we grieved and
we watched as the world changed around us.

As years, years, years pass by, and each year we cry and
we try to make sense of it still. It's no easier to understand the men
who chose to destroy for a god who employs hatred to draw men to him.
If a god of fear wants you to draw near, his tactics are truly unruly.
And when his men, under orders from him, kill innocents to obey his orders
then who wants to serve a god who deserves our distrust and our loathing?

Ruling through fear won't work for us here; America the free and the brave.
For attacking our loved ones on soil of our own puts steel in our
spines and resolve. We'll stand hand in hand and of them demand
an accounting for their actions. And we'll do what we can to prevent it
again and we'll not let another act of destruction
make us again victims of men who want to make us subservient!

Terror did reign for through the shock and the pain and
the truth of the enemy's hatred. But hit us one time and we call
back to mind the words of Patrick Henry's resolve;
"Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains
and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take,
but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!"

E'en through terror and fear, life so dear, it's clear is worthy of living,
So stand stronger we now, have shoulder to plough and we push on
through brokenness, heartache and loss. When looking ahead we
remember our loss and we plan to prevent it again. But more than that
loss we remember the cost of not knowing the enemy well. Now we're aware
of the depths of despair they're willing to dare bring those they attack.

No more do the towers, those pillars of awe, reflect the sun, moon and
stars. But remember we them in our hearts with the men, women and children
we lost. Replaced are the heights of the towers of lights with the hole left in the ground
and stamped on our hearts. Sacred place engraved with Lady Liberty's flame,
its presence gives us strength, courage and resolve. So those who look for a chance
to repeat the performance. Remember the day that our hearts did pay the price of
lessons we regret. But also recall, one and all, that for from ashes comes the Phoenix!


. * Merciful is ninth word in the actual text of the Koran (as opposed to the introduction).


© 2013 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

The Truth of Light

© 2013 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

Benghazi's shadow casts its gloom,
The IRS scandal looms,
Fast and Furious and Eric Holder,
A truer wrong -- could it be bolder?
And other things not yet known
Await discovery, to cast their gloam.
This administration's disgrace,
The president shouldn't show his face.

Our country -- great once it was --
Now in tatters, its glory does
Shine no brighter than scandal's dark,
And "free" health care was just a lark,
As lies and division created by his hand,
A darker version of Triumph's stand,
Against the foes of foreign shores,
Instead, our enemy's Michelle's paramour.

Destroying all he can by day,
Into the night he slips away,
Benghazi? Nah, he'll sleep through,
As four die under red, white and blue.
It matters not to him who rules,
He goes golfing (he has the tools).
It's not important what we think,
For him it's just a fart and blink.

America was a thing of the past,
He'll have his dream, longing at last!
Destroy her quickly, unless they learn
What the plan is and on him turn,
Taxes, lies, stimulus,
They all combine 'till we go bust,
And America that was, goes down in flames,
Him? No. He'll take no blame.

It will be us, or Bush's fault,
His plans will march on, will not halt,
Until She's dead, this land of dreams,
It won't be him, nor his foul schemes,
George Soros won't be part of it,
E'en though he'll smell of _______.
Sharia Law, the goal to gain
The Constitution is just a pain.

But remember...

A spark is lit by one man's breast
In whom the light still shines, and lest
We all forget the truth of light,
It shines the brightest in the night,
And when one person answers the call
Of freedom's voice so sweet, recall,
That it is then the flame revives
And spreads anew into other lives.

Don't count freedom out, call "Strike Three!"
Until you're certain of dead it be.
For in the hearts and in the minds
Of just a few freedom finds
A place of refuge, the light still burns
'Tis to that place where liberty turns
And finds a leader to call men home
To once again ascend the "throne"
Of Freedom's call, of our true rights,
Of GOD's gift, FREEDOM, still burns in the night.


© 2013 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

And The Nails Went In...

© 2013 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved


An innocent man, never lied, cheated, stole;
nothing was there to place the blame on Him,
yet, there it was. In their mouths, in their
eyes, on their skin.

They blamed Him for their fear, the loss of pride,
their growing dissatisfaction with their place
in society and in the grandiosity
of their own minds.

He came in love, peace, with truth on his
lips of laughing kindness, gentleness, healing.
And yet, they couldn't believe, accept, leave
their places of power.

So they accused; falsely, but that didn't matter,
for they were the judges and false judges
with false charges, their own choices make:
right and wrong gone.

Judged, He judged not. Condemned, He condemned not.
Slapped, beaten, mocked, whipped and whipped
and whipped again. Till flesh left bone and blood
dripped, ran down torn flesh.

Crowned and forced to carry the cross of
His own mechanism of torture and death and
stumbling, could not complete that task,
another forced to help.

Golgotha gained, his muscles strained as arms stretched
so wide. And the nails went in, one hammer stroke
at a time. Pounding, pounding, ripping, tearing,
spreading bone, not breaking.

They nailed his feet, his hands and stood the cross
up to hold him, as he struggled through the pain of
torn flesh, nailed hands. And breath came in bursts
of pain and anguish.

"Father, forgive them!" He cried through it all,
no mention of punishment, no cry to damn them
as He struggled to cry out, forgiveness He gave
as they gambled for his clothes.

And as His breath came harder in rasps, He
saw there His mother, and gave her away, to
ensure her future and her care. He saw those who
had put him there.

Still struggling to breathe His last breaths, lift up
and gasp, piercing pain on the nails, the nails that
went in, and He for us paid the price
the price of our sin.

In heaven, GOD the Father looked away, as our sin piled on
the Son He loved so much more, but they both had agreed,
before earth was made and we were here,
that this was the price we were worth.

"Eloi! Eloi! Lama sa-bach thani?" Father, why have you
forsaken me? His heart broke as the separation -- the full price
was paid, and then a whisper, "It is finished." and the only One
without sin, died covered in ours.

Thus is the story of this Eastertide. A story of love
and betrayal, of judgment without truth, of forgiveness
where none was deserved. Three days later,
the story complete,

Christ rose, nail scars still there, as Thomas can attest,
and His resurrection brought us final rest. For now we can
spend eternity in His Father's house, where none of us really
deserve to be.

As you celebrate this Eastertide, remember the Reason,
remember the price. 'Tis not just the death, nor just return
to life. But the thirty-three years, without sin; perfect,
obedient, God's Son.

And the nails went in...


© 2013 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

The Visit

© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

The headstone is no different
Than thousands that are just like it
No standing out, no stand alone,
Just standing there, a known headstone.

A mom, a dad, a brother dear,
A wife, a child visit him here,
They come together or by ones
To visit the sacrificial American sons.

They paid the price, the highest cost
To keep us free, no liberties lost,
Gave more than strength, limb, or life,
They gave your heart, too, cut with grief’s knife.

And now the stone, cold, but strong,
Helps your life to move along
And when you visit, this one headstone,
Your memories are not alone.

For other visitors, to other stones,
Are there with you, their memories hone,
The feeling of the place you stand,
In Freedom’s marker for this great land.

Although we visit not the stone,
We ask you to know you’re not alone
We understand the sacrifice,
And thank you all for the given life.

© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

Inspired by this photo. Again, I remember that WOMEN also serve and I thank them, too. The terms used fit the cadence of the poem, but does NOT reflect any negation of women serving, too.

One Foot Away

© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved



On fields of death and glory

       In times of troubles deep

‘Tis men of honor, courage

Whose efforts freedom keeps.



A step away from eternal

       Rest of endless days

A foot away from friend; suddenly,

Friend’s breath goes away.



A foot away from danger

       As EID explodes

Two more platoon mates

Gone now; downed on rough dirt roads.



Home and loved ones beckon

       As oft as heart beats in breast,

He stays for them and others

For freedom’s life’s behest.



Until they all come home now,

       Until the last returns,

Keep them all in prayers

For they make freedom’s light burn!



# # # # # #

I know that there are women serving in our armed forces as well. I do not mean to deny that. I use the term "men" here as in "mankind" and not as a gender. I thank ALL of our men and women who serve, or have served, and someday will serve. I can never thank you enough. GOD Bless You All!

Arguing In Circles

Believe it or not, I spent about five hours “debating” with a member-but-non-member of “Anonymous” overnight. I found out that they don’t have members, they vote but don’t actually, and they count the votes that they don’t take but they don’t count them because they take them. There are no leaders, just people who persuade and if someone thinks something is a good idea, it just gets done, but it isn’t something that they tell you to do because they tell you to do it but not. Yes. It went exactly like that. My head is still pounding with the illogic of it. Maddening. So, I did what I always do. I wrote a poem about it. And here it is for your enjoyment:





by and © 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved


I talked to you for quite a while,
all the time with just a smile,
at what you thought was "logical"
but was actually hodgepodgical.

You argued this and you argued that
turned around and rephrased the cat,
and said the air was blue-aful,
or maybe good was only awful.

The circles run 'round by your thoughts
engulfed a yacht and half a box
of chocolate covered Langoliers
and reduced me almost straight to tears.

When once you said that X was true,
then posting later it's opposite rue,
you made my head spin on its stalk
to you it was so hard to talk.

When discussing facts you had some straight,
but logic, reason - oh fate! - escaped,
and just because you said Y here
you pulled it back and held it dear.

Retractions none came from your mouth
quixotic behemoth north is south.
Believe yourself a great debater
believe me, sir, negotiator

If but a whiff of logic stirs
you'd stamp it down, cover with myrrh,
and froth up waffles to dungeon couture
escaping molecule of reason mature.

Deny not your illogical tome
it sits safely on Twitter's home.
If this is Z, but it's not, and "C",
or W is N but cannot be...

Be still my brain, relax and calm
let this poem be my balm.
When illogical logic circles you
Just remember, they haven't a clue.


by and © 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

I'll Hold You, My Child, Up Here In My Heart

By and © 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

For Landon and all of the war babies who never knew their Dads


I knew about you before you were born and
Loved you from moment one. I imagined your smile
Your little bitty toes, your baby blue eyes and your cute button nose.

And I held you in my heart, not yet in my arms, and
Knew from that moment you held my heart. Even though I
Had not met you as yet, you had my completely, feelings I’ll never forget.

Then my country called me away and you went with me
In so many ways as I carried you in my heart. I missed you
So much that when all alone I cried a little, wanting to get home.

You cheered me up when I was down, gave me courage
as I stood my ground. You were born just three weeks
ago, seven pounds, three ounces; my how you’ve grown.

Now I watch over you from up above, an enemy’s bullet
Took me from your love. But you’re still with me
As I with you and I’ll watch over your mother and you.

I’ll watch you grow up, get married, have kids,
all from above. I’ll hold you forever, no matter how far,
I’ll hold you, my child, up here in my heart.


© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

The Foundling Fathers

© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

The Founding Fathers heard Freedom’s cry --
Though other countries had passed her by --
And picking up this Foundling child
Gave her a home in this country wild.

Freedom’s love for Fathers grew
And multiplied by fours and twos.
Freedom’s love touched hearts of men
And tyranny ne’er held place again.

The Foundling child – denied far and wide –
In Amerca people took her side,
Against the King of England’s shores
The Foundling’s Fathers for her implored.

America now a burning light
Of Freedom’s virtues of all men’s rights
The Foundling’s Fathers declared her life
Worth fighting for ‘gainst gun or knife.

And so began the cost of war
Paid by many as nary before.
Freedom’s cry touched many a heart,
Brand new nation, had its start.

A victory, first one then two,
And Foundling Freedom’s red, white and blue
Was lifted high through rocket’s glare
And Foundling’s Fathers saw Freedom there.

She’s been since then in every fight,
America’s bright and guiding light,
This Foundling child other countries trod on
Became the world’s favorite beacon.

Two-hundred Thirty-six years later now
As other people come take the vow
That Foundling child – the Fathers’ pride –
Writ large in history, the change of tide…

The Foundling Fathers chose Foundling child
Gave her a home in this nation wild
And child, in turn, turned Freedom’s face
Into our nation’s greatest grace.

GOD blessed America with Freedom’s light
He gave within us sense of wrong and right.
And if we listen we hear the drum
The beat of Freedom in our heart becomes.

Thank GOD for Freedom; remember as well
Those who no longer the tale can tell
For in those lives was Freedom’s price paid
Freedom’s Foundling’s Fathers her call obeyed.


© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

Eagle

© 1994 Linda S. McKinney

If the last American Eagle
circled slowly in the sky
and no human eye saw,
nor ear heard Eagle's cry.....

If in his talons —
in air still pure and blue —
the last vestiges of Freedom,
though none claimed its residue.....

If in his eyes Eagle saw
enslaved down below —
deaf, blind, mute, and halt—
chiseled beings of stone.....

If Eagle brought to us
Freedom's greatest Light
placed gently into sculpted hand
Truth of Wrong or Right.....

If Eagle rose up slowly —
awaited cold, death-like grip
to make courageous effort
to be distinguished from the rest.....

How many times would Eagle come
to retrieve the Greatest Gift
until, Eagle's mission complete,
stone moved — transformed into Man?


© 1994 Linda S. McKinney

"Son, Husband, Father, Friend"

My Memorial Day 2012 Tribute To Our Troops

© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

He was her son when at two
She saw with pride he learned to salute
His smile so wide, tip-toed shoes untied,
Soldiers passing returned his salute.
Until his Dad, with glad heart
Saw his son for the very first time.
Up in his arms, he swept his son,
And he loved him, as no other could have done.

His body landed heavily against the wall;
Another soldier fallen, another family torn apart,
And the blood ran down his chin in the rain
And the blood ran down in the rain.

He was her love, her life, her husband; she was his wife.
He made her laugh, he made her proud,
He made her wonder what she would ever do without
His tender touch, his quiet strength, his certainty,
His way with kids, his support, his curiosity.
He went through life at warp velocity.

His body landed heavily against the wall;
Another soldier fallen, another family torn apart,
And the blood ran down his chin in the rain
And the blood ran down in the rain.

A "Daddy's Girl" is what she was,
A little princess, with dimples (two) that won his heart.
As tiny hands encircled his, the four-year-old stepped on his feet
And they danced their first waltz, it was so sweet.
He kissed her, hugged her tight, touched her hair as he said "Goodnight"
And she missed her Daddy, drew him pictures every night.

His body landed heavily against the wall;
Another soldier fallen, another family torn apart,
And the blood ran down his chin in the rain
And the blood ran down in the rain.

He pulled him from the first attack,
"Careful, Brian, I've got your back!"
He stood so strong in this hard place,
A rock, a fortress: still a kind, friendly face.
His men respected, obeyed, knew a force
For good, for them, for freedom's course.

His body landed heavily against the wall;
Another soldier fallen, another family torn apart,
And the blood ran down his chin in the rain
And the blood ran down in the rain.

Son, husband, father, friend landed there against the wall,
Without a warning; without a call.
Without his presence, they will all stumble on.
Missing husband, father, friend and son,
Knowing his death paid freedom's price,
And that he thought it worthwhile sacrifice.

His body landed heavily against the wall;
Another soldier fallen, another family torn apart,
And the blood ran down his chin in the rain
And the blood ran down in the rain.

And the blood ran down his chin in the rain
And the blood ran down in the rain.

© 2012 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved

____

Thank you to all those who have served and whose families have lost their loved ones. To those who have given all and those who have lost some. To those whose hearts are broken and those who are still awaiting news. To those who make the difficult decisions, to those who face the hard battles, to those who face the toughest foes. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. We could not be America without you! GOD Bless Each and Every One of YOU!

A Veterans' Day Poem: SHE SERVES

Sometimes during the night hours
She sits watch and thinks about
The loved ones back at home
Those she’s doing without
And when in sadness, weary,
She feels so all alone,
She looks back at her squadron
And lonely no longer bemoans.

Sometimes on patrol
Within the danger zone
She worries about her safety
But not for hers alone
She wonders how her family
Without her there would fare
And her fellow soldiers
Would do without her there.

She knows it’s not her presence
That ensures their safety, success
It’s just that when she’s with them
She’s their Momma Bear Princess.
She listens to their problems,
And comforts their fears and doubts
And sometimes, lends a shoulder
For them to cry them out.

For when she made the Army
Her home, her family,
She knew the sacrifices
Enormous, hard would be.
Yet, worth it all she counts them
With all the worries, cares,
When in harm’s way she enters
She knows her brothers there

Have got her back and always
Will watch out for her here.
Here where harm surrounds her
She keeps her “brothers” near
Sometimes safety rides in numbers,
But here danger lurks in secrets
The enemy whisper soft
And moments are divided by
Escaping danger oft.

‘Tis eighty days till home
Will greet her weary eyes
A daughter, a son, a husband
Await her to arrive.
A memory will haunt her
At home with family’s love
A brother soldier died
While cradled in her arms.

He was her “little brother”
Her laughter when depressed,
He kept them all together
When anger was trumped by jest.
His smile was contagious
And never did it fail
To bring about the unit
That needed laughter’s hail.

His mother she did contact
And tell the sad, sad news
And wept as long as she did
For her heart was broken, too.
When home she sees at last,
She’ll call her once again,
Go visit grave of “brother” passed.
So now she sits and watches
And keeps her squadron safe
And thinks about her loved ones
Back home she’s keeping free.
She knows it’s all been worth it,
Her country more secure,
Because she chose to serve us
America’s Freedom will endure.

So now we thank our soldiers
On this, their Veterans’ Day,
We thank them for their service
And for the price they pay.
We thank their friends and family
For their own sacrifice
Of time without their soldier
And too oft, for their lives.

© 2011 Linda McKinney

E Pluribus Unum

"E Pluribus Unum"
And so on they say,
"Out of many, one"
And believe what you may
It won’t be one from many,
It’s not built that way
Its shape changed years ago
When power corrupted, blinded, swayed.

"E Pluribus Unum"
The intent of the Fathers
No longer a factor,
Considered but not obeyed.
Discarded by those who wished,
Planned to take what they may.
And "Unum" no longer existed:
Dreams from the Fathers dismayed.

"E Pluribus" turned away
From what the Founders did say.
"Unum" lost, pulled apart, torn,
Ripped from the future as well as the past,
"Unum" trampled upon by those
Who rewrite history,
Destroy the future for their want:
Power is their drug.
And addiction rules those who have it too long;
Gathering possessions, influence,
In hope to belong,
They betray grandchildren’s hopes, rights --
Prosperity stumbles -- and grandma was in power.

"E Pluribus" and "Unum" no longer talk.
Freedom for "Pluribus" just a word,
"Unum" took it all away,
Ground it into dust, soft, silky powder,
Light, floating, blowing:
Disappeared in the wind of "Unum’s" rule.
"E Pluribus Unum" escapes the lips of rulers
(As they laugh behind their eyes) and speak
Of what they will do to help all,
Favoring only their voters, helpers,
Friends, supporters, and lie to "Pluribus" again.

"E Pluribus Unum" had its blood spilled
Long ago, slow trickle at first, then
Over the wooden benches of the House
And Senate, pumped steadily onto the sidewalk,
Down the pavement, Congress’s twinkling eyes,
Laughing, as they wrote more laws,
Favored more their own,
Making "Unum" of themselves;
The rest to be the servants of the one.
Fiefdom, serfdom, servitude:
Citizens shall obey.
Or face the wrath
Of government’s path
And of "E Pluribus Unum"
Our lives shall go the same way.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust"
"E Pluribus Unum" has gone that way.
Forever our future determined by "Unum" --
Until, sackcloth wrapped, "E Pluribus" discovers
Its voice again and stands against "Unum’s" full sway.

Consider the future and look to the past
For all things depend upon this:
Independence was won, not just with muskets --
‘Twas words first shot that fired --
When – if ever – our story shall change
And "E Pluribus Unum" takes long lost breath,
No blood need be let,
Nor bodies to bury,
But "wounds" shall be plenty;
And words start the story
Of "E Pluribus Unum’s" return!

© 2010 Linda McKinney All Rights Reserved