May 23, 2013
Message to My Granddaughter
by George Hall
three weeks now.
I have awakened every single morning
early or late. Drowsy or not.
To a corrupting montage of hideous images.
First. Silvery planes striking great sky towers.
Searing the mind with Fire. Smoke. And Death.
Then second. A momentary surge of false hope.
Fleeting relief that it was but a nightmare.
And could only have happened in a bad dream.
But then last. The sickening and shattering sense
that the terror is the ultimate reality.
There is no escaping its inevitability.
Or the fears that will haunt the future.
I am sure these awful visions are shared
with millions of my fellow countrymen.
And countless others the world around.
Those of us who ingested the TV screens
that appalling Tuesday in September.
As our innocence seemed blown away. Forever.
But we must fight the triadic gloom.
We must not allow deep dread to expel all cheer.
Or dark hatefulness to engulf our very souls.
Humankind cannot lose its joys and hopes
because of some awesome calamities.
However pervasive they may appear.
Life is often burdened
with Agony. Hatred. And War.
But those sad afflictions are far outweighed
by Soaring Beauty and Gentle Goodness.
Which are ever with us.
If we cultivate them to grow up grandly
in their naturally exuberant profusion.
Raleigh, North Carolina
October 5, 2001
Illustration courtesy of Joe Lee.