You Can Not Crush Us

By Wil C. Fry, Oct. 14, 2001, 16:30

Copyright © 2001 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.

Flaming devil faces sprouting smoke
And the tiny specks in the sky
Are falling bodies
Soon to be covered in rubble
We watched it all in real-time
Sitting in nervous horror
A thousand miles away
Wondering which Boeing plane
Would drop from our skies
Pondering the possibility of an invasion
“Am I ready?” I asked myself
Looking through the closets and drawers
Gathering supplies — just in case...
My gun, my flashlight, my hunting knife
Extra clothes in the same bag with
Ammunition, batteries, vitamins and
A notebook — always a notebook
Returning to the evening News, to see
That the horror was ending...
The skies were empty for the first time
In fifty years — maybe more
Knowing that the bodies would be gathered
The rubble would be cleared
And knowing that our nation was strong
A pinprick like this could never wound us
A tiny mosquito on the back of a blue whale
Even a thousand planes
Would only be tiny dots in our expansive sky
And a thousand missiles will bring them down
How long has it been since we felt
This patriotic, this strong, this togetherness
Knowing that ten million other Americans
Were checking their guns too
Fueling their cars, putting batteries in their radios

Even in our complacency, we are strong
Even in our drowsiness, we are ready
Even in our fear, we are loyal
And you can not crush us.

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