(I'm breaking my wordcount rule today because whoever tried to blow up boston broke all the rules of humanity and rules just generally don't apply right now.) (and anyway, 106 words. I'm close.)
where does the chaos end and the silence begin?
how do we know that the danger has passed
and we can go back to our tightropes,
our tired laundry lines?
which side of ourselves do we trust—the side
that feeds on screams, on downfall,
or the side that runs into the smoke,
racing to save the one whose race is over?
I stand under blinding stars
after a day when sidewalks ran
with blood.
this dark is a weight.
but those that ran into smoke—
I have to run, for them, for the hearts
that still beat, still hope.
there will always be enough of us.
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