by Leonard Pitts Jr. of the Miami Herald

We'll go forward from this moment.

It's my job to have something to say.

They pay me to provide words that help make sense of that
which troubles the American soul. But in this moment of
airless shock when hot tears sting disbelieving eyes, the
only thing I can find to say, the only words that seem to
fit, must be addressed to the unknown author of this
suffering.

You monster. You beast. You unspeakable bastard.
What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's
attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What
was it you hoped we would learn? Whatever it was, please
know that you failed.

Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned
your cause.

Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our
resolve.

Did you want to tear us apart? You just brought us
together.

Let me tell you about my people. We are a vast and
quarrelsome family, a family rent by racial, social,
political and class division, but a family nonetheless.
We're frivolous, yes, capable of expending tremendous
emotional energy on pop cultural minutiae -- a singer's
revealing dress, a ball team's misfortune, a cartoon
mouse. We're wealthy, too, spoiled by the ready
availability of trinkets and material goods, and maybe
because of that, we walk through life with a certain sense
of blithe entitlement. We are fundamentally decent, though
-- peace-loving and compassionate. We struggle
to know the right thing and to do it. And we are, the
overwhelming majority of us, people of faith, believers in
a just and loving God.

Some people -- you, perhaps -- think that any or all of
this makes us weak. You're mistaken. We are not weak.
Indeed, we are strong in ways that cannot be measured by
arsenals.

IN PAIN

Yes, we're in pain now. We are in mourning and we are in
shock. We're still grappling with the unreality of the
awful thing you did, still working to make ourselves
understand that this isn't a special effect from some
Hollywood blockbuster, isn't the plot development from a
Tom Clancy novel.

Both in terms of the awful scope of their ambition and
the probable final death toll, your attacks are likely to
go down as the worst acts of terrorism in the history of
the United States and, probably, the history of
the world. You've bloodied us as we have never been
bloodied before.

But there's a gulf of difference between making us bloody
and making us fall. This is the lesson Japan was taught to
its bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit us this hard,
the last time anyone brought us such abrupt and monumental
pain. When roused, we are righteous in our outrage,
terrible in our force. When provoked by this level of
barbarism, we will bear any suffering, pay any cost, go to
any length, in the pursuit of justice.

I tell you this without fear of contradiction. I know my
people, as you, I think, do not. What I know reassures me.
It also causes me to tremble with dread of the future.
In the days to come, there will be recrimination and
accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose failure
allowed this to happen and what can be done to prevent it
from happening again. There will be heightened security,
misguided talk of revoking basic freedoms. We'll go
forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad. But
determined, too.

Unimaginably determined.

THE STEEL IN US

You see, the steel in us is not always readily apparent.
That aspect of our character is seldom understood by
people who don't know us well. On this day, the family's
bickering is put on hold.

As Americans we will weep, as Americans we will mourn,
and as Americans, we will rise in defense of all that we
cherish. So I ask again: What was it you hoped to teach
us? It occurs to me that maybe you just wanted us to know
the depths of your hatred. If that's the case, consider
the message received. And take this message in exchange:

You don't know my people. You don't know what we're capable
of. You don't know what you just started.

But you're about to learn.