The news is full of doom and gloom.
It permeates my living room
and seeps in cracks of broken heart.
The day is sad right from the start.
Floods in the north, explosions south,
the taste of gall within my mouth
and over all falling debris
of Satan inspired atrocity.
From Cathedral of the Holy Cross,
all faiths join in to face great loss.
The words like soothing lotion flow
to fill cracks so they no longer grow.
First steps of healing have been taken.
Boston’s firm faith has not been shaken.
As sure as there is a rising sun
next year’s marathon shall be run.