Pieces of Silver

It’s been 25 years since 9/11,

when 3,000 souls left this earth for heaven.

We remember them now,

as our heads we bow.

 

Two towers once stood where the sun would glance

upon their aluminium face – a silvery expanse,

shimmering brightly above the waters of New York Bay,

until struck down on that fateful day.

 

Silver the bay, silver the buildings towering over the city.

Flying on silver wings came traitors to humanity.

Not Four Horsemen riding through;

death was shot in a silver-grey hue.

 

Four bullets came from out the sky.

Into their targets they would fly.

Two painted silver, with a precious load -

ill, that bode.

 

A silver bullet is meant to kill;

defeat the monster that attacks with skill.

But the North Tower fell to Flight 11,

and the Pentagon struck by Flight 77.

 

Two more bullets, grey as gathering storm cloud,

into the desert and the South Tower, a people to enshroud.

And while some were engulfed in jubilation,

a silver dagger pierced the heart of a watching nation.

 

Where silver towers stood, only fragments remained,

shards of ambition and hopes unattained.

Yet do not tarnish the memories of those who fell;

polish them brightly, and tell their stories well.

 

For silver is also the mirror of the soul,

and in that dark hour we could see that our goal

is to show courage and kindness, and let love’s pure shine

not be betrayed and destroyed by hate’s cruel design.

 

A hallmark of pure evil was stamped upon us all,

as we gazed in horror, and watched people fall.

But on this anniversary, the silver gleams –

not in the towers, but in the heart that still dreams.

​

So, weave this darkness with a silver thread,

and let the light of hope on all of us spread.