Martin Richard

I was standing there, just standing

With my mother and sister.

One to my left,

One to my right.

We watched as the runners ran by.

Then I heard a sound,

A sound like I’ve never heard before.

People were yelling,

Screaming out of horror and terror.

There was smoke coming from the ground

And people were running in scattered directions.

I was scared,

No, terrified.

That would be a better word.

I looked to my left, at my mother.

She was staring at my sister and I.

There were tears streaming down her face.

I looked to my right at my sister,

Her poor little leg was so mangled.

I tried to help her,

But to no avail.

No matter how hard I tried

I could not touch her.

I started to panic,

I cried out to my mother

To ask her what was happening.

But she never said a word.

It was as if she could not hear me at all.

But then it hit me

 And I realized

I must be dead.

I could not touch my sister.

I could not talk to my mother.

All I could do was watch,

As the tragedy continued before my eyes.

I could not understand why,

Why me?

Why now?

Why my family?

After all I am only eight years old.