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  #1  
Old 09-11-08, 06:41 PM
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DeMouse DeMouse is offline
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Default 9/11/01

Creator
of the universe;
Composer
of the stellar
music of the ballet of the planets
around the sun;

What lamentation can speak your grief
for the malevolence
of incendiary destruction and slaughter
that Your creation executes
upon itself.
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  #2  
Old 09-12-08, 12:06 PM
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No disrespect too you or the poem, but I think its time to throw away the bitterness from that day. Remember the people on who they are and where they are now, not on how they died every year. I say this because I think this is how they would want us to remember them by with joy and happiness not in anger or sadness.
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  #3  
Old 09-12-08, 03:51 PM
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To me that poem speaks not just of 9/11 but of the eternal incendiary destruction of thise whon refuse the love of Jesus Christ and in an intermediate way of the hurts humans inflict on one another and themselves during this lifetime and God's grief about it.


Strange but we so seldom think of God as grieving for lost humanity and yet He loved us so much that He reached out and sent His son and even that gift is so often refused....How it must hurt a Faher's heart....how different from the big meanie in the sky waiting to pounce in judhgment that we sometimes see portrayed.
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1Peter 2:24 Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed.

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. ... Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me. Matthew 25:40 & 45

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Old 09-14-08, 02:05 PM
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Ann, I think it is because we do not understand His love..
It is as gentle as it is severe..
Heaven is his desire for us ..He would that none would perish.. gentle...
But if we refuse His love we are left without hope..our choice... severe...

That is a touching poem..did you write it?
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Psa 36:7 How excellent is thy lovingkindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings.
Psa 36:8 They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house; and thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy pleasures.
Psa 36:9 For with thee is the fountain of life: in thy light shall we see light.

Psa 34:8 O taste and see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.

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  #5  
Old 09-14-08, 03:45 PM
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To the best of my knowlege the poem was written by the member who posted it it is very much that member's style. DeKats live here DeMouse is in another state. Probably just as well since hbc does not always use wisdom with his smaller playmates.
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1Peter 2:24 Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, should live unto righteousness: by whose stripes ye were healed.

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. ... Then shall he answer them, saying, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me. Matthew 25:40 & 45

www.caringhandsministries.com
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  #6  
Old 09-14-08, 05:04 PM
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No bitterness was involved in the birthing of that poem, O Great White Wolf, and no anger is expressed there.

My dad passed away on September 9, 2001. Before the numbness had worn off, the World Trade Center was attacked. My youngest brother and I were driving up to Delaware to the funeral and we drove by the still smoking Pentagon on the 12th of September.

I staggered at two such emotionally devastating events so close to each other. My third or fourth thought was that I was glad that my dad had not lived to see such a thing happen, and I thought of his inevitable grief if he had seen it.

One thought led to another, and soon I was wondering about the grief of my Heavenly Father over such destruction by His creation. After a couple of months processing, I wrote the poem.
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