Boston Marathon: A Race Where Not All Reach That Finish Line

by Steve Thompson
(methuen,ma USA)

Poetry in pieces on the street

choking on the hatred of words too loud to swallow,

innocence dies,

blood cries,

love

still lives in Boston.



Stars burned the night,

voices silenced,

roaming a heaven full of prayers holding hands with fate.

Fear in their blood stained sneakers,

running to a new finish line,

…life.



Pavements write in between the cracks,

you dare not step on,

the truth of what the future brings.

Broken glass,

washed off,

with the real red stains of life,

parts of everyone we love.



Kneel in the city,

feel the ground shake,

see the faces betrayed,

shadows hide strangers

as they

flee their deeds.



Where will spring go now?

safety needs a warm bath,

and the flowers

don't know how to choke,

birds need to land,

dreams do too!



Boston,

oh Boston,

your monuments they weep,

as history writes between the lines

vigilance… in sad letters.



“Mommy,

can I have a life?”

she whispers in the smoke of loss

no one answered!

Hope was sleeping,

or are we allowed to be so naive ...



Oh sky,

give us a gentle rain,

to wash our gathered pain,

and hide these endless tears,

someone left

on our faces.



Finally…

as one balloon takes to the sky

in the midst of the smoke

inflated full of an air that never knew a blast in Boston

now… floats over two!