That day

Remember, everyone says, as the day comes 'round again. Never forget.

And so I will. And will not.

I'll remember, and never forget, the dead, all those names that circle two murmuring reflecting pools in  a shaded glade -- the footprints of the towers that stood there that clear blue morning 18 years ago, and then no longer did.

I'll remember, and never forget, the nation we used to be, and then no longer were, and may never be again.

I'll remember, and never forget, how the psychic scars of that day remain 18 years along, and how opportunists and fear-mongers and charlatans of every political stripe have used that to turn us against those who don't look or speak or believe the way we do.

I'll remember, and never forget, those opportunists and fear-mongers and charlatans on election day. And vote accordingly.

Because, see, I also remember what so many sacrificed on that day, and what so many nameless, faceless people sacrificed for months and years afterward to heal its physical and emotional damage. And how the opportunists and fear-mongers and charlatans demean those sacrifices.

But every time they do?

I just turn this up a little louder.