Poem: September 11, 2001 by Lisa Asacalon

My hands are empty now.
They once held innocence and arrogance tightly in their
grasp.

My hands once held the innocence
of one who has never
seen the diabolical fire
or heard the screams of 5000 voices
or tasted the soot of death between their teeth
or felt the grit of bones beneath their fingernails
as they sort
through
the rubble searching for pieces of souls.

My hands once held the arrogance
of one who has only known
love and safety,
protection and peace,
and that the conviction of one's faith can bring only
pride.

My hands are empty now
But my heart is full