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Something to share

post #1 of 5
Thread Starter 
I thought you all might like to read this.....

This was sent to all Americans from a friend in New Zealand... He truely has a way with words..

All New Zealanders I know will join with you, in this your hour of
need. My small personal acknowledgement on bended knee"s to he whom I
call God seems a pittance as I allow myself to comprehend the whole
tragety that has befallen you all. For now I do see a " United States
of America " For to long you have been known as just the ole US of A

This tragedy that has struck your fine noble country. It has also
struck the free World. In my own small town, flags are at half mast.
In my own small country we mourn for those that lost their lives. For
the firemen, paramedics and my own fellow cops thats lost their lives
in rescue attempts, I salute you " My Brothers" you laid down your
lives in what we swore, so way back. "THE PROTECTION OF LIFE AND TO
UPHOLD THE LAW AND ORDER OF OUR COUNTRY" You will be always held in
the higest esteem by your surviving fellow Officers, your supreme
sacrifice will not go unoticed by your brothers througout the world.
And that is for all the Rescue People that died.

To those that died, on the planes, in the buildings Tower One Tower
Two, The Pentagon, and there are so many of you. One day I will meet
in a place we call heaven.

To those of you that caused it. We will never meet.

I have no Bible sitting close to me. So I shall make a new verse.

"To those that attempt to destroy my kingdom"
I shall take aside
And I shall say to them, do you profess to be me.
Are you the saviour
And when they cannot answer me, I will take them unto me
And I will say.
Do you not know my commandments I sent you so long ago
And now you will know my wrath
I will send from my heavens of which there are many
A message unto you
Remember my son, whom gave his life for you
Do not fear me, for I am the life
But to desroy my children, in this way angers me
To forgive, I told my only son
And on a cross so long ago he did, in pain and duress

Have not you learned yet my sons you all
Will you ever.
And now unto my kingdom my arms are spread
I take you my children
Innocence, the children you leave behind
I am with them, through all, I am
I am your God, I am

You cry my name in moments of need
Yet my rules I see are not in your creed
But I remain to be here for you
And on this day I hear your need

So fear not my sons and daughters dear
To my place
You are welcome
My arms outspread, my son is here
I love you all, do not fear.

A Verse written on this day of tragedy

By Trevor Robert Alty

And I do not profess to be God
Just Trev who is feeling at this time
post #2 of 5

Dear Deb,

That was very, very moving... There have been so many beautiful stories that have been created out of a nightmare.

The reactions from people of other countries, has touched my heart so deeply. I guess it's 'cause they're so far away and can still feel our pain.

Thanks for sharing such a beautiful poem.
post #3 of 5
Thank you for sharing that lovely article! Here's one I received today, also dealing with firefighters.


A Firefighter's Story


The south tower of the World Trade Center has just collapsed. I am
helping my friends at Ladder Company 16, and the firefighters have
commandeered a crowded 67th Street crosstown bus. We go without
stopping from Lexington Avenue to the staging center on Amsterdam.
We don't talk much. Not one of the passengers complains.

At Amsterdam we board another bus. The quiet is broken by a
lieutenant: "We'll see things today we shouldn't have to see, but
listen up, we'll do it together. We'll be together, and we'll all
come back together." He opens a box of dust masks and gives two to
each of us.

We walk down West Street and report to the chief in command. He
stands ankle-deep in mud. His predecessor chief earlier in the day
is already missing, along with the command center itself, which is
somewhere beneath mountains of cracked concrete and bent steel
caused by the second collapse, of the north tower.

Now several hundred firefighters are milling about. There is not
much for us to do except pull hose from one place to another as a
pumper and ladder truck are repositioned. It is quiet: no sirens,
no helicopters. Just the sound of two hoses watering a hotel on
West Street — the six stories that remain. The low crackle of
department radios fades into air. The danger now is the burning
47-story building before us. The command chief has taken the
firefighters out.

I leave the hoses and trucks and walk through the World Financial
Center. There has been a complete evacuation; I move through the
hallways alone. It seems the building has been abandoned for
decades, as there are inches of dust on the floors. The large and
beautiful atrium with its palm trees is in ruins.

Outside, because of the pervasive gray dusting, I cannot read the
street signs as I make my way back. There is a lone fire company
down a narrow street wetting down a smoldering pile. The mountains
of debris in every direction are 50 and 60 feet high, and it is
only now that I realize the silence I notice is the silence of
thousands of people buried around me.

On the West Street side the chiefs begin to push us back toward
the Hudson. Entire companies are unaccounted for. The department's
elite rescue squads are not heard from. Just last week I talked
with a group of Rescue 1 firefighters about the difficult
requirements for joining these companies. I remember thinking then
that these were truly unusual men, smart and thoughtful.

I know the captain of Rescue 1, Terry Hatten. He is universally
loved and respected on the job. I think about Terry, and about
Brian Hickey, the captain of Rescue 4, who just last month survived
the blast of the Astoria fire that killed three firefighters,
including two of his men. He was working today.

I am pulling a heavy six-inch hose through the muck when I see
Mike Carter, the vice-president of the firefighters union, on the
hose just before me. He's a good friend, and we barely say hello to
each other. I see Kevin Gallagher, the union president, who is
looking for his missing firefighter son. Someone calls to me. It is
Jimmy Boyle, the retired president of the union. "I can't find
Michael," he says. Michael Boyle was with Engine 33, and the whole
company is missing. I can't say anything to Jimmy, but just throw
my arms around him. The last thing I see is Kevin Gallagher kissing
a firefighter — his son.

Dennis Smith is a former firefighter and author of "A Song for Mary."

Copyright 2001 The New York Times Company

post #4 of 5

Dear Joe

Gosh, do they get any more moving? Thanks for such a great story. Those men were/are so courageous. God Bless Them....I'm so happy that man found his son...I think I would've dropped to my knees and cried.

Love, Peace &
post #5 of 5
Thread Starter 
Yes, Joe...thank you for that very moving story!!! It is so sad! Thanks for sharing it with us.
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