Oh dear calming waves that brush upon the shore,
And blooming flowers and overcampusing trees a'more,
And the pleasant smells of freedom and liberty,
And the numerous hearts of my civilians sincerely.
For the most safest of places, shall I call my home,
And deem no infliction upon such values of my own.
Until what horrors have drawn a near,
Until what treacheries are we to share,
For 'tis a place of safekeeping have we deem,
No longer holds its name at all does it seem.
And much like the Titanic of a poem from before,
Have these fated deaths have but fate to blame for.
Oh shall we never recall this city as a tragic place,
Nor recall the Boston Massacre of 1770 with haste.
For no sane of man shall the slaughterings enjoy,
And for no family of one shall the deaths rejoice.
Remembrance of our people and our city's name,
Are we to call another terrorist is to blame?
Are we to call that be but the doing of tragic fate,
Or the will of God and towards our ideals He hate.
Or shall we blame it for the naiveness of us all,
Thinking that terror only upon namely's does it fall,
But for a city shall its peoples stand a'mass strong,
And rise from the ashes of horror and continue living on.
And shall we take the tragic seeds of what was left to sow,
And grow'st the blooming rose from the ashes as a whole.
A tribute to the Boston Marathon injuries and/or deaths and to their loved ones.