Find the words for this sad stirring, but of
what? Losing heart, another context gone,
innocent sport stripped from us like a glove?
We must find words for this
and try to understand what can't be known,
murderous rage chosen instead of love,
aimed at children who wait for parents done
this race now strewn with blood from bombs above
them and below. Their eyes forever open'd,
childhood gone as shrapnel blasts mean loss of
how to find words for this.
This is in response to the prompt from Marian at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads to use the form of Roundel and her excellent explanation. It's also an attempt to try to find words to describe my horror in the aftermath of the bombings at the finish line of the Boston Marathon yesterday. Boston is where I'm from, a city I love, a city that hosts this international marathon for 117 years now and celebrates the runners wholeheartedly. I'm at a loss to understand.
