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HARBORED EMOTION I never meant to be a rebel but never cared for Yanks or Mets. Never liked Islanders or Rangers, Giants, Bills or Jets. I disliked Knickerbockers even more than New Jersey Nets, but in a smoked Manhattan skyline I respect New York's rescue vets. Across banks of the Meadowlands in twilight of The Hudson Bay. Downriver from The Big Apple amid the shadows of the Shea. Great pride, integrity and guts etch images neath a sky of gray, where near Madison Square Gardens shattered dreams now drift away. I choke back chunks of emotion as my stomach churns and sours, to see police and firemen wade deep debris of fallen towers. They sort ashes for lost victims, from their duty no one cowers, as I witness New York's finest brave a country's darkest hours. American hearts ripped to reveal where their stronger spirit lies. Jets assailed innocent victims and raped our nation by surprise. The lady in a harbor holds a flame, high above her tear filled eyes knowing our Sweet Land of Liberty again soon is sure to rise. |
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