N.O.W.

Only seven when two towers fell
the eleventh day of the ninth month
two-thousand-one
when a pentagon went quadrilateral
and a single field became the site
of carnage intended for a house of white
But “Ignorance is bliss”
they often say
and rarely would a child understand
why classroom TVs are turned on
and the teachers’ faces are all sad.

Two thousand nine hundred seventy-seven
On thousand four hundred thirteen
Nine thousand nine hundred seventy-one
Four thousand four hundred thirty
Thirty-one thousand nine hundred sixty five
Sixty-six thousand eighty-one
Fifteen thousand one hundred ninety-six

Numbers of War
Prisoners of Hate
Millions massacred, but
a million is a statistic
One man dead
makes it all significant.

Nine years, seven months, twenty days.

Singing “We Are The Champions”
the crowd forms
(nothing more American
than British rock songs)
and the commander-in-chief,
delayed more than Nukem,
makes it truly official
An era has ended
a new one begins
Still battles rage on
while war wages strong
Yet we will shout
we will pray
God Bless America
God Bless the World.

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