From where I stand:
This last week was a strange time in New York. It was a time when the public face and the private person were slightly at odds. Feelings were mixed and mostly intimate. There was nothing to say and yet, there was a sense that words were called for.

In tribute to 9/11, I offer you a poem ("Grief") by Elizabeth Barret Browning

I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air
Beat upward to God's throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach.

Full desertness,
In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens.

Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death--

Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.

Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go.


And yet we know against all human desperation...

"Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." -John11:25

May "the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost." -Romans 15:13