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On the phone
my sister-in-law
her voice brittle and cracked
“Oh my God, a bomb at the marathon!”
At the radio
the Towers collapsed for me again
now-
the damning knapsack
… the white smoke
lower extremities
schrapnel
the reporters constant replay
and I am fixated
worried about my own sorry ass
and then something clutched my throat
as my friends’ and family’s faces
a cinema of wide-eyed fear
flashed before me
wondering
if they were
at the finishing line..
was it their time?
and when was
mine?
In the aftermath
that woman’s vacant stare
at the sky
as if the heavens could answer
“Why?”
– Doug Holder
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