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