Its a year later now.
September 11th. 911.
How ironic to be on that day.
the ninth month. Eleventh day.
Innumerable meaning.

The number that should mean safety.
I'm hurt. I need help. Come save me.
And they will.
Until now.

Now it means anger. Terror. Sadness.
A day many lives were lost.
It brought us together,
gave us pride, hope.
But at such a terrible cost.

3,000 lives in the rubble.
3,000 treasure chests of hopes and dreams.
Death. Terror. Horror-stricken hearts.
Is that what this number means?

It may have before,
but it doesn't anymore.
A year later, America unties.
From this attack, we let in the light.

September 2000: 911 is safety.
September 2001: a number of death and irony
A year later, again, it is a haven to me.

True, you call this number,
you get hte police, the firemen, and ambulance.
But you also get hope, and kindness.
For this number we will always remeber.
A mixed-feeling day, that day in September.
 
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