a fear by any other name(for 9-11)

for some of us
the flag isn’t a suitable bandage
for some
its been ten years
in a wilderness of ‘why?’
wondering where truth and lies
meet and exchange information
you can cover the scars
where towers once stood as twins
with polished marble and steel and glass
but no one
can create a mausoleum
for the walking wounded

for some of us
this isn’t a day to hawk flag pins and ribbons
guzzle cheap chardonnay with cheaper sentiments attached
for us
you shouldn’t prostitute this pain
but politicians get their foundation
while waiting for interviews and collect money
and vultures swoop in
to pick profits from the ashes
hoping your mind is still clouded
like the choking grey dust
and that it coats your lungs to dull your protests
when they send Crayola alerts
and send out the badges in trucks

for some of us
this day
doesn’t need incessant reminders
the walking wounded remember their scars
named Ground Zero and Shanksville
and the spirits of those lost
make their homes in the rays of the sun
note how they’ve burned that much more since then
for all of us
it was no ordinary pain
but don’t tell us to never forget
we won’t
we just refuse to pander
to a fear by any other name.

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