Tom Miller |
The Marathon
Boston April 15, 2013
The next day.
Friends and loved ones accounted for.
All are well.
But all are not well.
Counts are done.
Casualties tabulated.
Dead identified.
Wounded suffering.
Psyche flat.
Flags at half staff.
Bells will soon toll.
Tears shed but again.
The randomness.
Not so much of the act
But of the victims.
Just ones out to enjoy the day.
An accident of timing merely.
Malice in its anonymity.
And what do you accomplish
With your venal act?
Retribution? Salvation for self or others?
Meaningless. Meaningless.
Suffering and loss.
Gains to you only in the negative.
For you have added nothing to the world
But misery.
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