Running
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This poem is a tribute to those who lost their lives and their innocence at the Boston Marathon terrorist attack.
I've trained for this.
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in
on the line-
24,25,26.
I see them clearly now-
My wife, my child-
smiling, cheering
as they urge me
through the echoes
of feet smacking
pavement,
through my
tunneled view of
the victory line,
through my exhaustion,
through my pain.
I've trained for this.
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in on my targets.
Thousands! There are many!
I can see them clearly now-
a woman, a child-
smiling, cheering
as I slip past
and drop my bags.
And now I am
running
through the
smoke and through the
screams as runners push
toward the finish line
without legs.
I've trained for this.
Lungs burning, muscles twitching
as I close in
on the scene.
175, 176...
I see them clearly now-
the woman, the child-
lifeless, bleeding
as they urge me
through echoes
of feet smacking
pavement,
through my
tunneled view of
torment and death and
I can do nothing but
hold their hand.
Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013
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