When the bombs exploded, I was not there.
I was wandering through the botanical gardens many, many miles away. I was looking for beauty and inspiration with my brother.
When the bombs exploded, I wasn’t thinking about the cruelty and senseless acts of violence that fill our world today. Nor of the acts of cowardliness that are disguised as rebellion.
Because make no mistake, yesterday’s act was the ACT OF A COWARD!
Yes, the person or persons who did this are cowards. They sit back and enjoy the chaos and pain they caused. They revel in the news coverage and in their moment of glory. But they don’t have the courage to claim or explain their act.
THEY ARE COWARDS!
When the bombs exploded, I was not thinking about acts of bravery or cowardice, or how I would react in the face of tragedy. I was reflecting on possibility and hope and ways to change the world to make it a better, more peaceful place.
When the bombs exploded, I was writing a poem with my brother. I would write one line and then show him the last word. He would then respond and show me the last word. And so on . . .
These were the words we saw:
Eerie words in retrospect, because the bomb went off and limbs were lost, and the world changed.
Here is the poem we wrote together:
By Lisa and Steve Kramer
Changes come with the seasons but also with
Moving forward, moving back, always now, always
Yet with change comes growth and unexpected
Ready to fly, or maybe dive beneath the depths; what does the future
Should we hold onto past dreams? Or is it time to let go and move forward? When do we know when it is time to
It often comes back on itself, or maybe makes shapes of
How does one turn fantasy into reality? Perhaps we can’t reach the fairies and the magic, but with focus and intent we can, indeed, change the
It is our heart, it is our soul, it is the solid beneath our
When the bombs exploded, this was a poem of hope, but now it feels like a poem of sadness. And yet, the beauty of the day remains, and the beauty of those people who helped others outshines the horror of the act. The words of people who were there make me feel that perhaps change can happen. Hope can happen. Kindness can happen.
Beauty still exists.
When the bombs exploded, a poem was just a poem. But now everything is different . . .
because the bombs exploded.