Boston Upheaval

Victory lied, just in my sights, and my feet found their rhythm with greater ease as they conquered the last of the lap. Then, came the blasts. For a moment I felt nothing, and heard nothing, under the safeguard of shock, til pain broke the barrier, white hot. My eyes leaked, though not from the foreseen tears of victory, rather those from a depth of sorrow I’d never known, as I thought, “if only my children had stayed home.” Everyone scattered, rather searching, or into missing pieces and fallen limbs, from the storm that had taken us all by surprise, and I felt fortunate, for the moment, just to have my life. Sirens sang promises of aid, those who could, extended gracious hands, and upon witnessing them, I gathered the sense to stand, only to find, i was less of a man. Panic swooped in at that very moment and I couldn’t believe I’d failed to notice nothing remained beneath my waist, and nails hung in my flesh, my entire body defaced. And I might’ve lost myself then, if I hadn’t heard the cries of my son. My wife, my daughter, all my loved ones, safely, with waves of comfort, had come. I saw others, weeping for their children, who lie in the same condition as me, some pushing past paramedics, to find a little peace. For what I’d lost, I was still among the lucky. Today, that’s just a memory, as it will always remain to be, but then, it was a lesson. I learned of tragedy.