“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
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.