The Innocent Dead

These blackened skies wrought by blackened hearts...

The cloud of debris hangs over like a spirit
Warning
Hinting
At the evil of the world
How could they do it?
Celestial gates are closed to them
Sealed tight with the coagulating blood
Of the innocent dead

The twin sisters sigh in final defeat
They are torn.
Ripped
Shredded
By hands unwitting
They topple only to remind of the evil committed
And the Innocent Dead

Brightened screens show the darkening times
As ready- made bombs are caught unaware
And plunged into the heart of America
Tears are spilled and hearts are filled with
Dread
At the sight of falling corpses, the screaming living,
And the innocent dead

Brave hearts and strong souls
Die
At the hands of the unwitting
The hands which wrought the blacked sky
They die saving,
Saving and becoming
The Innocent Dead

If it were only possible to dry those tears
And mend those hearts
If it were only possible to stop the terrors men incite on men
And to help those
Addicted to it

If it were only possible to ressurect the towers
And to heal those innocent dead
If it were only possible to scoop aside that blackened sky
And find the sun again

The ending two lines were great. I loved your use of 'scooping'.

However, your repition wasn't as well-implemented as it could of been.

My advice--
every time you use 'The innocent dead' try to integrate it in a new way. A new meaning for the phrase, if you will. This will noly add to your poem and it's collective meaning.

agreed with whence on the last point: when repetition works it's often when new meanings or ideas are connected with the same words. Take a look at this poem:

Villanelle

Every day our bodies separate,
exploded torn and dazed.
Not understanding what we celebrate

we grope through languages and hesitate
and touch each other, speechless and amazed;
and every day our bodies separate

us further from our planned, deliberate
ironic lives. I am afraid, disphased,
not understanding what we celebrate

when our fused limbs and lips communicate
the unlettered power we have raised.
Every day our bodies' separate

routines are harder to perpetuate.
In wordless darkness we learn wordless praise,
not understanding what we celebrate;

wake to ourselves, exhausted, in the late
morning as the wind tears off the haze
not understanding how we celebrate
our bodies. Every day we separate.

--Marilyn Hacker

Granted, something like this is very hard to do: but the repetition doesn't get in the way at all, and the variation in meaning builds up towards the end. Punctuation can help with that -- it helps direct the flow of the poem along with the linebreaks. You can get a lot of different meanings out of similar words by punctuating differently. This article by Clau should be very helpful.