Parallel Lines

Watching

the Boston Marathon

from a warm and dry

vantage point,

the runners,

wheelchair competitors

are the focus.

Reaching the one hour mark,

then the two hour mark,

the white street lines

catch my attention.

This is the second

Boston Marathon

since the horrific day

when

two brothers

placed

pressure cooker bombs

near the finish line.

Shock, chaos, blood

drastically changed the

color of the day.

Loss

of lives,

limbs

safety

punctured the crowd.

Days later

in the dark

shots rang out a mile

from home

as the brothers

in a car,

took a hostage,

killed again

and tried to disappear.

The older brother died.

The younger drove over his brother

and headed to the next town.

For fourteen hours,

one million people

were in

lock-down.

We could not leave our homes.

Helicopters overhead,

sirens blaring,

the younger

was found in

a covered boat,

in someone’s backyard.

Tomorrow

begins the second part

of the trial.

Death penalty

or life in prison?

An eye for an eye,

a primal

human dilemma.

Individuals,

Families deeply affected by

death and loss.

Ask

for

life

in prison.

Will the wounds heal

with grace

with this

sentence?

Parallel

Lines

What will the jury

decide?