(September 11, 2001)
High above an autumn morn
 Where doves aspire to fly,
They stood in monolithic grace
 Against a cloudless sky.

Who amongst us could have dreamed
 Before that day was through
An avalanche of steel and glass
 Would bury what we knew.

Our flames of anger billowed forth
 And spread across the sea
To seek out ancient battlefields
 In search of victory.

And all free nations bowed their heads,
 Afraid to raise their eyes,
In fear of catching just a glimpse
 Of dark September skies.

How could we truly comprehend
 Or estimate the cost
Of midnight tears and broken hearts
 O'er souls reclaimed or lost?

Instead, with scarcely time to mourn,
 Our passions were unfurled
With countless vain attempts to face
 The new uncertain world.

But even as the winter looms
 And trials by faith arise,
Look up! and wait upon the Lord
 In clear September skies.