Bearing Witness to Boston
I wasn't there
and those whom I love
were nowhere near the blasts…
but I am affected.
As angry as I become
looking at the footage--
thinking of the malevolence that had set this plan to pass--
seeing pictures of exploded pressure-cooker pieces
and the metaphor it evokes in my poetic mind,
I find myself in tears only
upon reading acts of kindness--
of angels risking their own wings
to help a stranger scared
It is the evidence of yin and yang,
of light and dark,
of the universe always seeking balance
not in the form of Muhammad
but in the love shared among common souls
that overflows my eyes
and fills my humbled heart.
For Molly and Dave and Maggie... and everyone else.
The distant thumps of a tight bodhrán punctuate the gaiety of a playful tin whistle as I, lost in reverie, stand amid the frigid wind ...