The New Pheidippides
Martin Richard bleeds like Boston
Blood red socks strewn on the ground
Massacred like Crispus Attucks
Hardly time to hear the sound
Bombs, ball-bearings, flying razors
Slashed the crowd on Boylston Street
Police, officials, random strangers
Drank death’s whiskey served up neat
Missing teeth at First Communion
Martin’s smile on my TV
Tears from neighbors missing Martin
Wordless, senseless tragedy
Too young to have seen the Towers
Crumble that September blue
Not too young to take, a victim,
Shrapnel meant for me and you
Now a family’s torn asunder
Flags half staff, as Ashmont weeps,
Face the Pesky Pole at Fenway,
Silently while Martin sleeps.
Pheidippides gasped out his message
“We have won a victory”
Fell to earth. His death for many
Seeming contradictory.
May Martin’s death inspire many
Fighting terror to fight on
So that freedom reign forever
Faneuil Hall to Marathon!