“Phoenix Rising”, by bf2015
Little did she know she’d kissed a hero
Though he’d always been an angel in her eyes
Putting others first it’s true, that’s what heroes always do And now he doesn’t need a pair of wings to fly…
It doesn’t feel like 16 years.
It never does and it never will.
16 years ago, it was just another Tuesday, a random, unimportant, helpless Tuesday. People got up, they went to work, they packed up lunches, they kissed kids goodbye
They got on planes…
What happened after that is in the history books now. We can’t change it, we can’t bring them back. We can’t undo what was done…
But now more than ever, I have to wonder: what did they die for? What would they all say if they could speak to us now? Have we honored them? Have we lived our lives with the attitude that all of those who died in some way died to protect?
In the aftermath of 9/11 the world witnessed tragedy on an epic scale, but we also witnessed beauty. The beauty of a phoenix rising from the ashes, of a world rising from pain. We had been shaken to the core, and rather than lashing out, the every day people in our lives reached out, we took hands and we cried together, we mourned together, we sang together. On that one faithful and fateful day, we were all American.
Moreover, we were all people.
That’s all, just scared, normal, fragile mortal people. For once the world wasn’t really looking at skin colours or symbols, not in those first early days. The fear and hatred bounced back and came later, and fools were we to welcome it back in. But in the direct aftermath, when the dust was still choking the air and the newsreels were still running on loop…when we couldn’t see through the tears in our eyes and we hadn’t yet really gotten around to finding someone to blame…we were all just people.
No, we can’t roll back the clock, we can’t stop them from getting on those planes, and the world must move on. But in moving on, we must not forget that one brief moment when we were all just people…especially now
We had a choice those 16 years ago, there were two paths open to us. And I can’t help but think that in our everlasting thirst for vengeance…we have choosen poorly.
The world is becoming dark and frightening again. And as the clouds descend and the storms come, remember to reach out and touch someone’s hand, wipe someone’s tears…
Live for them.
For all of them.
For the dead of Orlando, for those lost to the wars, for those who have been devoured by our ongoing and irrational fear…
Live for the ones who got on those planes…because if you don’t live your life to honor ‘angels’ then you have just as well as forgotten them…