by Malia Griggs, 2002
Early Tuesday morning,
The hatred that
Had already slowly ignited
Those animals' souls
Burned deep in their
Thick flesh
As they aimed to
Strip us of our pride,
Our freedom.
They shot high
They hit high.
Down our people fell,
Disappearing in the flames
Of the foreign to the free
And yet our people emerge
Victorious
Somewhere in the eternal bindings
Of our flag
Which is not just a flag
It is who we are
Who we have pledged to be.
Time
Does not stop for us
Time
Did not stop for us.
And it never will.
But we will keep on fighting,
We will keep on flying.
And we will always,
Forever,
Be free.
by Malia Griggs, 2003
Someday
they'll make movies
with people screaming,
flour gathering on their feet
as they run.
Feedsacks hitting the pavement
with sickening thuds.
They'll show the headlines
and beautiful people yelling
"Bastards!"
at their TVs
as the screen fades from
color to black and white
and reality falls in buildings
with cartoon dust bursts
like gray parachutes.
Tons of form
and metal
and coffee cups,
carpet
lives
tumble like bed sheets
to a depression in the Earth.
Where did all of it go?
Another silent Atlantis
is created
within a hole.
The daughter of a firefighter
will force herself to see the films
and it will be like
collapsing within her structure
again and again
leaving dust
that nobody sweeps up.
Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust.
Death to death.
There is no liberation, no consolation
no empowerment
for the daughter
only pain
only sleep
only time.
They tell her how great her father
was
Life to life
The sacrifice of a lamb to God.
She doesn't tell them
God is only
a golden ideal.
I was 12, in Mrs. Fuller's Writing for Publication class. It was very quiet because we were doing a timed writing. Mrs. Waldop came on and told us to please have a moment of silence for the lives lost and injuries in the attacks on the WTC and the Pentagon. So we sat there, just as silent as before, and I was deeply confused. What was going on? Wasn't our friend Ken in one of those towers? It was very hard to concentrate on writing. We got to watch a little CNN in between classes and I got the general idea, if it can be general. When I got home, there were lots on questions on my part. We found out later that Ken was safe and my dad was very relieved. Well I guess all of us were. But how relieved could we really be? It was a sick day.
2002
One year anniversary, I was 13. I wore all black to symbolize...I don't know what? Power? Mourning? I was in Mrs. Harrison's class and that's when we heard news about the bomb threat as Dr. Galloway or Mr. Lee asked some harrid, and amusing at the time, questions over the intercom. We all had to stand outside and wait and I was furious with the student who would do that on THAT particular day and not any other. Does hate never die?
2003
Third year, I'm 14. Patriotic Day at school...I changed my mind on wearing black. Too depressing now. Mr.W did the moment of silence, pledge, and a speech with Musack (We are one gender?). The moment of silence was a bit silly--you could hear commotion in the background, and he did the pledge really slowly. The Musack was played between classes. *sigh* Oh well, he tried.
I was going to watch the television specials at night, but I turned on the TV and let was barely anything on--let alone the 2 hr specials I was expecting. I was none too happy. I'm left feeling, have we really united? Have we?
-from Greg's web page. A link to his page in Cuff Links.