Epistle – This poem reads like a letter. It can be intimate or formal, and a declaration of love or thoughtful exploration. There is no strict meter or rhyme scheme.
Hey you, dressed all in black!
What are your plans for that backpack?
Mother Nature spread her sunshine,
for us—a blessing—simply divine.
Unaware that dirty plans had begun,
on Marathon day, under the Boston sun.
Another dead man walking toward another’s fate,
never learned to live, only fostered hate.
Please tell me how it feels to carry such despair,
while others prosper from the beauty of prayer.
Will this violent act feed your empty soul?
The rest of your life, falling into a black hole.
This destructive day will last for all time.
Remembrance is for the innocent, not the crime.
The world isn’t blind to the Angry Ones’ disdain.
We mourn the losses--overcome your infected strain.
Senseless and inhumane,