creating me [using words]

Looking at His Face

(The World, As Seen Through This Window in My Heart)

Twice sitting in McDonald’s borrowing internet,
I have seen his face flash on the screen,
young man responsible for the Boston Marathon bombing.
His hair is dark, tousled.
He does not look old enough to commit a crime is all I can think.
I cannot connect this face to that crime—my brain resists.
How many people
are looking at this face
with disgust and outrage?
Maybe a person with a lost limb whose life has been forever altered
is looking at this face.
Maybe a now-childless parent
is looking at this face.
Maybe the parent of this young man
is now looking at his face
on the cold, distant screen—
their son a murderer.
And all I see looks like a boy
with a life ahead,
tousled ideas in his head.
How do we reach a breaking point,
like the one he reached
and how did he build up that much anger that young?
How can humanity get this out of control?


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creating me [using words]


creating me [using words]

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