[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 148 (2002), Part 3]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Page 4282]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                       A POEM BY ROBERT GRAVELINE

                                 ______
                                 

                          HON. JOHN B. LARSON

                             of connecticut

                    in the house of representatives

                       Wednesday, April 10, 2002

  Mr. LARSON of Connecticut. Mr. Speaker, I rise to submit this poem 
written by Robert Graveline, a constituent of mine from Rocky Hill, 
Connecticut.

                   September Eleven Two Thousand One

     September Eleven The Date, The Year, Two Thousand One.
     Early That Tuesday Morning, World Towers Came Undone.
     Peace And Pride Were Shattered, By A Fanatic Few,
     Thousands Died In Terror; They Did Not Have A Clue.
     Emergency Workers Hurried, To This Place Of Death, Where
     Men And Women Both--Would Draw Their Final Breath.

     Buildings Dropped To Ground Zero, Next, The Pentagon,
     Earlier Signs Of Terror Missed; We Could Not See Beyond.
     Revere All Who Died; Include Flight Ninety-Three,
     Expecting To Lose Their Life, They Fought On Valiantly.

     Life Goes On As It Should, We Will Certainly Overcome.
     Embracing God Our Father; Let Us Pray, That His Will, Be 
         Done,
     Valor's Flag Unfurled Once More, By New York City's Finest,
     Every Life At Risk That Day; Some Died Bestowing Their Best.

     Nature Renews Our Spirit; We'll Mourn And We Will Repair,
     The Dead We Will Never Forget, They Know We Deeply Care.
     Wrecked And Torn Apart, Skyscrapers And Human Beings,
     Once Burned Twice Remembered, Vigilance Now, By All Means.

     Thanks Be To God, Our Father, May He Bless The U.S. of A.;
     Heal Our Minds And Bodies; Protect Our Remaining Days.
     O `America The Beautiful--May You Forever Stand,
     Until The End Of Time; Deal With All Life's Demands.

     Still; With All That Has Happened: Death, Destruction; Harm,
     Ashes, Fire; Total Loss, New York Has Not Bought The Farm.
     Now We Are On The Mend, Badly Bent, We Did Not Fold;
     Declared War On Terror, No More, Do We Have to Be Told.

     Out Of All This Comes A Will, A Bonding With Each Other;
     Not To Be Caught Unaware, To Love Our Sisters And Brothers.
     Ever Thankful To Be Alive, Yet, Life Is Not As Before.
     Some Of Our Loved Ones Are Missing, Death Came; Knocked At 
         Their Door.

         

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