September 11th: Never Forget

In reading a great American poet named Anne Bradstreet, I am sore reminded our hope is not built upon castles and bulwarks, or upon any of these passing shadows, and so even today I will proclaim God is good.

I heard speaking thi’ September day,
those maimed families, respects to pay.
In somber street
the names repeat:
unforgott’n this nine eleven.

I thought how, as the day had come,
the clockwork of old Washington,
had ticked along
in right and wrong:
unforgott’n this nine eleven.

‘Til rocking, swaying, in strange plight,
the world revolved from day to night.
Though silence came,
the words remained
unforgott’n this nine eleven.

Then rage, it frothed, from cursed mouths
—as like the war ‘twixt North and South—
and with its sound
remembrance drowned,
forgetting this nine eleven.

It seems as if an earthquake rent
—a fault line—our whole government,
and made forlorn
those whom had sworn:
never disdain nine eleven.

And in despair I bowed my head,
“We have forgotten,” so I said;
“For hearts grow cold,
or so I’m told,
forgetting this nine eleven.”

So I hoped that this was mere noise,
yet not in such invested joys.
My loved nation
my faith’s not in,
unforgott’n this nine eleven.

Related: The Comedy of Evil

(And below, two of my favorite pod-casters remember today.)