'The Old Math' by Carol Catt, a poem about 9/11

The Old Math

Out of the East on stolen wings they came,
like raptors,
innocent of pity.
Self-righteous, single-minded,
they slit the air with hate keener than box cutters,
fell on unsuspecting prey,
on one,
then on its twin some minutes later.

They'd got it wrong,
of course -- the direct access into Paradise.
By another reckoning,
souls in their hundreds leapt up to God as one,
leaving a hole in the morning sky,
in a thousand thousand hearts.

By Carol M Catt
from Selected Poems

HT to VirtueOnline


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