This poem was written by Toni Kirkman (my ex-wife) on September 11, 2001. This is a date that is burned into our collective memories.
September 11, 2001
by Toni Kirkman
How many saints did God welcome with open arms today?
“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints”
How many loved ones saw the terrible news or received a phone call they’ll never forget?
And then fell with tear stained faces into the sweet embrace of our risen Saviour
Receiving the divine peace of his love and comfort.
And how many children will grow up knowing that they will again see their mother or father.
That they await their reunion in the new Jerusalem when time is no more.
Where we’ll never again say good-bye.
But then,
How many went from a firey inferno on this earth one moment
To an endless, bottomless pit of full of flames and sulfur.
Where unimaginable pain and torture will never cease.
No end. No escape.
For those spouses and loved ones, will there be peace?
From whence will the comfort come?
Or will they rail at God with flailing fists, crying “Why, Why?”
“There is no God of love!” They’ll say.
“No justice, no answers, no peace!”
But God is in His heaven, feasting with those newly arrived.
Perhaps wondering, “Will they continue to reject my salvation?”
“How many must perish for all time before they grab hold of the life preserver I have provided?”
“Behold, I stand at the door, and knock: if any man hear my voice, and
open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with
me.”
These numbers may never be revealed. They won’t be broadcast on the
daily news.
You won’t hear how many perished eternally on the radio.
The reporters won’t be investigating the real tragedy.
Do you think we’ll have another chance to tell those lost of their mistake?
Or don’t you think they know it now?
Will we remember them when we’re rejoicing in the light of His brilliant
Glory?
How can we when there will be no more crying, or sorrow, or pain?
Perhaps they will be a distant memory, like a dream that one can’t quite
recall.
On one side death and dying, pain and eternal flame.
On the other, everlasting joy and gladness.
Let us heed the unspoken words of the perished.
The anguished voices that cry out, unheard, to those who remain.
“Don’t wait any longer! Open the door to Him now!
Else it will be forever too late”
Too late.