Treasure Island

Romella Kitchens

(Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania)

The Boston Marathon 2013


I must tell you in life there, has
been nothing better than honey in warm
milk with consistent plain, bread warm like
unto human skin - except for peace.

We stand here all of these dark eyed,
hungry children wanting a world without
violence, our bowls on this count empty.

For, here violence comes on fast foot steps,
timing the death and the suffering as
others go on with the best of intentions
to simply co-exist.
And, there is God in a yellow rain slicker
sitting on the back porch steps of the world,
His head turned up to the heavens
weeping due to it all.

Submitted: Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, April 17, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

The canvas of the world is not all flowers. There are vales. Deep canyons of sorrow and pathos. These canyons are real and to be mourned.

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