MY BROTHER, IT’S 2001.

Traitor! You were supposed to be my brother.
You were supposed to love and forgive.
You tried to tear us from one another.
Instead you remind us how to live.

You remind us that life isn’t fair.
You remind us that we are one; with the world; one nation.
You showed us, as our brother, that you’d dare
to destroy a part of you: Creation.

You want to tear us apart.
You want to take our lives away.
As if you, my brother, had no heart.
As if you, yourself, don’t live day after day.

Many did cry, many did suffer.
Many wished it were all a dream.
You didn’t cry, but you will suffer,
you’re gonna wish it were a dream.

All those souls are gone.
All that’s left is a hole.
You may think you’ve won, my brother,
the one without a soul.

Victory, you don’t have
for you, my brother, are a coward.
What did you expect to have?
After destroying those Twin Towers?

Did you want love? Freedom? Attention?
Or do you just hate us so much?
So much, that it’s too much to mention?
Hatred to the point of such? Of such.

I can’t believe I was alive that day.
The day we all ended up dying.
I can’t believe the price we had to pay,
nor the tears we ended up crying.

God, did we even have to pay that price?
Tell me, my brother, I need to know.
You play our lives like a game of dice.
And you have absolutely no remorse to show?

My brother, you were not sad to see us go.
You are not sad to see us go, my brother.
You’ve sunk to a morale so low; so low.
I’m ashamed to call you my brother.

Sibling, do you want me to die like a son-of-a-bitch?
Or will that not be enough for you?
Do you want me to put the gun to my head, pull the trigger, and NOT flinch?
Or is that STILL not enough for you?

I don’t understand why you don’t give a damn.
Nor how your hate is the definition of homicidal rage.
Why couldn’t you just reach out your hand?
Why did you choose to reach this stage?

My brother, I can only wish that it weren’t too late.
The tears and this, we will not forget.
Because, with all your hate,
not enough tears in solitude can be wept.

Brother, why did you do this to you and me?
Why did you put those disgusting thoughts and images in my head?
Why did you choose to make a world where hope is made a folly?
What made you think it was worth the bloodshed?

A dagger should be welded into your heart of steel,
You cold-blooded murderer.
Our gaping wounds will never heal
because we know you want to take it further.

If you are not frightened, then I fear for you.
Humanity has been defined and now I am scared.
Sometimes I just close my eyes and say, “It’s not true.”
Leave everything behind because I’m so scared.

I can’t believe you’re human; that you have lives.
Of course, with that amount of insanity,
you took your own lives, others’lives, with lives.
What is your definition of humanity?

When those towers fell, my heart sank.
When people began to run, I felt weak?
My own brother made us walk the plank.
It was my life that he wished to seek.

When we thought it was over,
when we began the search of bodies to find,
when, to our own brother, we turned a cold shoulder,
It was at that moment that humanity was blind.

Later we’d say, “After the attack…”.
People, brother: It’s two thousand and one.
I feel like history is back.
Like we’ve only just begun.

Early morning September eleven,
the world changed with a crash.
Thousands too many of souls went to a heaven.
People such as you and I: gone in a flash.

New York City remains the city that doesn’t sleep.
The city where Lady Liberty has new meaning.
The city that hasn’t really begun to weep.
New York City: Forever-Healing.

So, my brother, what do you want to do now?
What is it that you wish to prove?
Are you preparing for the next surprise how?
To wake us on a new day filled with a more terrorizing morning’s dew?

Flying had always been the ultimate freedom.
Flying was meant to be free.
Yet that was how you chose to steal them.
To deprive them of life’s freedom on a killing-spree.

American. Canadian. Black. White.
What the hell’s the difference?
Why must we all die for one man’s plight?
Why do our children have to witness this?

Brother, how are you still alive?
I, myself, can barely walk this Earth without feeling the pain.
How are you able to jump and jive?
At the thought of your own family being slain?

Now that damage has been done, I feel useless,
And somehow you’ve continued, as we try to leave all this behind.
New Yorkers and mankind alike are clueless
And as you choose to continue, humanity is (yet again) redefined.

Brother you, too, one day shall in the fire burn.
And on that moment when we think it’s over:
we will grieve at more lives wasted.

For each of my brothers and sisters will want to take their turn.
Indeed, tomorrow is a new day,
for someone else’s pain thought another brother’s hatred.

-Joanna Francisco
September 11th 2001.

As the title suggests, I wrote this in high school on the evening of
September 11th. There are some pretty good metaphors and some decent flow of words here and there, but I think between the angst/hormones/lack of vocabulary, it’s not as superfluous as I’d remembered, but it’s still commendable for my age then looking at it 15 years later. Images courtesy of Alexis Ward, taken from that year’s yearbook.