Lives, and limbs, and loved ones shattered
as shrapnel and ball bearings battered the innocents on Boyleston Street.
Concussive waves of pressure blew them down; debris, and smoke, and injured
all around the sidewalks and the shops on Boyleston Street.
And hundreds turned and ran into the fray
to help the ones that couldn’t get away,
as screams and sirens mingled in the air
so many helping hands reached out with care.
I watched events unfold with sinking heart
while through the night the ranks of victims mounted.
But so did stories of angels giving shelter, food, and comfort
to so many strangers unknown and uncounted.
I drifted off into a troubled sleep, praying for the victims,
while trying not to weep.
When I woke I realized with crystal clarity,
how often unspeakable horror
brings out the best in our humanity.
No matter how great our sorrow,
no matter how large our defeat,
As a phoenix we rise from the ashes,
like the ashes on Boyleston Street.
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