One Boston

“Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”             ~The Symposium, Plato

When metal and cowardice exploded
on Boylston
false men who thought to be gods failed.
In this place that built us all,
one by one,
we fell to the ground, to hard ends, cutting deepest
into the heart of who we are.

And then a thousand souls stopped the bleeding.
Hands of strangers got to work.
Voices never heard before, tended the loss of limb and liberty.

Places and people connected by bandages of hard highway
and sutures of stony mountains.
Gauzed with soil stretching to horizons, turned beautifully brown
by the same hands
that pulled laces tight that morning,
smoothed numbers across singlets,
lifted cameras and banners
made of triumphant voices.
They carried their runners–their friends, family, neighbors–
over a line.

Those far: the halves of those near.
On Patriots’ Day, we became measured together in fine symmetry.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s