Message to my granddaughter - Poem

Technos: Quarterly for Education and Technology, Winter, 2001 by George Hall

   For three weeks now.
   I have awakened every single morning
   early or late. Drowsy or not.
   To a corrupting montage of hideous images.

   First. Silvery planes striking great sky towers.
   Searing the mind with Fire. Smoke. And Death.

   Then second. A momentary surge of false hope.
   Fleeting relief that it was but a nightmare.
   And could only have happened in a bad dream.

   But then last. The sickening and shattering sense
   that the terror is the ultimate reality.
   There is no escaping its inevitability.
   Or the fears that will haunt the future.

   I am sure these awful visions are shared
   with millions of my fellow countrymen.
   And countless others the world around.

   Those of us who ingested the TV screens
   that appalling Tuesday in September.
   As our innocence seemed blown away. Forever.

   But we must fight the triadic gloom.

   We must not allow deep dread to expel all cheer.
   Or dark hatefulness to engulf our very souls.

   Humankind cannot lose its joys and hopes
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   because of some awesome calamities.
   However pervasive they may appear.

   Life is often burdened
   with Agony. Hatred. And War.

   But those sad afflictions are far outweighed
   by Soaring Beauty and Gentle Goodness.
   Which are ever with us.
   If we cultivate them to grow up grandly
   in their naturally exuberant profusion.
George Hall
Raleigh, North Carolina
October 5, 2001

George Hall, poet laureate of TECHNOS, is a retired professor of English who lives in Raleigh, North Carolina.