In time, September the eleventh night,
The kids will watch the rockets fill the air.
They'll OOH and AAH in multicoloured light
With bioluminescents in their hair.
Our tragedies will be reduced to rhyme
Some half-remembered, mistranslated song
And jumping dances, meaningless through time,
Details missing, names and places wrong.
Though self-renewing terror haunts our lives.
Our children, staring upward at the sky,
Remind us that their innocence survives
While we, and they, and generations die.
Resist with decency when terror stalks
It's stronger than Bin Laden, Mao or Fawkes.