I try to imagine the terror suffered by the people on the planes that were hijacked, their mounting fear in the final moments when they realized there would be no demands, no hostage situation, just their own deaths. I try to imagine the horror of the people in the twin towers as they saw so many pounds of metal hurtling toward them and the sure knowledge they couldn't escape that fate, yet instinct demanding they try. I try to imagine the mad scramble for the stairs that they would never reach, the sound of impact, the shearing of metal, the shatter of glass, the rending of concrete mere seconds before the fatal moment.

I can imagine the hearts pounding, the screams, the incoherent prayers cast to whatever god or gods they believed in. Then I think of the people trapped in the towers, faced with the choice of burning to death to hurling themselves from the building, knowing that death was the inevitable result, no matter the choice. I wonder what I would have done, and I can't answer that question. It makes me wonder if I am a coward, not knowing the answer. However, for those faced with the situation, there is no cowardice, because there was no chance of survival. But the people in those towers were faced with that choice and they made it, by staying or jumping. The tragedy of those events cannot be truly comprehended by such a finite, linear mind such as my own. It can only be met with grief at so much destruction in so short a period of time.

When I saw the footage of the plane crashing into the second tower, I was overwhelmed at such surreal images, things that seemed to have no place in reality. I couldn't make myself acknowledge that something so far removed from what I understood and knew had happened in my country. But, for good or ill, that passed and I felt tears well in my eyes. I prayed, such as I pray, that the deaths suffered would be quick, hoping against hope that no one would suffer the slow death of hope, trapped beneath thousands of pounds of rubble, screaming for help that would never come in time. A swift death was the greatest mercy I could conceive of for the poor souls in those buildings. There was, much to my great fury, nothing further that I could offer those victims of fate.

Had the tragedies ended there, it would have been more than enough to last me until the last day of my life. Had we been able to mourn in some measure of peace, grieve for our fallen countrymen and women, for our fallen foreign cousins, and for the latest blow to our already battered national innocence I might have been able to bear it. Had we only been able to follow a path of reason, I might have laid down my pen and wept for the great loss. Had we only been able to remain human beings, my faith in the ultimate survival and better nature of human race would have been justified after all the hoping. Had only so many things come to pass, I would not be writing these words. They have not!

Instead, I have been witness to another far greater tragedy. I have watched the death of reason. I have seen a madness overtake my beloved nation. It is a grim, horrendous bloodlust. I have watched as good men and women, people of kindness, of virtue, of true character, have taken up the cry of vengeance: they have embraced the utter stupidity of violence in crescendo! They have gone beyond mere anger or outrage: they have dropped to the level of savages, of barbarians, of a horde intent only on conquest. Am I any less angry? Am I any less wounded? Am I any less intent on seeing the distribution of justice to those who have brought such violence to my beautiful country? No! I say it again, no! I scream it out, NO! My fury is no less boundless! My desire for retribution no less all consuming! I will not, however, embrace these at the cost of sanity.

America is the land of freedom, founded on a principle of equality and unity in our diversity. It is the vast harbor of hope for democracy in a world of dictatorships. We stood against the Nazi's, because they would enslave the world. We stood against the Communists, because they swore our destruction and had the power to make good on such a threat. We have stood as a bastion of tolerance, however imperfect, as an example to the world. This makes me proud to be an American, to be able to claim that long tradition as my heritage. Until the past week, whatever I may have thought about my own government, I have had little reason to question that pride in my nation and her people.

Now, I am filled with shame and terror at the desires of my fellow citizens. I am ashamed that my people would place their hatred and longing for blood above the good of the nation of Afghanistan, a nation that has suffered more war than our people could possibly understand. I am ashamed that my people would place the lives of more of its children in the path of violent death because we cannot reign in our anger. This is a nation founded under the words, "one nation under God." I believe the Bible says: "Vengeance is Mine, sayeth the Lord." But perhaps we only mean, one nation under a God we find palatable. Perhaps we need to find a book that supports the idea of the rule of hatred. A quote that says: "Vengeance is mine sayeth the angry mob" would suit nicely. For that is what we have become, a mob, thinking only of its wants, not of needs.

In that is my terror. That my people have fallen so far already in its quest for death, how much farther will they fall before they are sated? What madness to start a war in that part of the world. It could very well be the start of another world war if one thing goes wrong. Not that that matters, because we need our retribution, no matter the cost. When will the flow of blood be sufficient to resurrect the dead in the World Trade Center towers and in the Pentagon? What power will check the chaos we go to unleash? What hand will stay the anger of my people?

We stand on the threshold of becoming that which we say we fight. We are about to become the invaders, bringing death from the skies. I wonder if anyone cares that the people who will die on the other side of this fight have families who will cry just as fiercely as we cry for our dead. I don't believe anyone does care. We will have our blood, our retribution, and it seems it does not matter who suffers in the process. Do I weep at this time? Yes, I weep. I weep for the deaths to come, for the folly my people will commit, for the loss of my pride in my country, and I weep for death of reason.