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No part of this poetry should be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author, Joe DiMino, who retains all rights: contact

"Boston 15,2013" (by Joe DiMino)

Desert not the tender heart
Because the slayer has come—

He will leave
As all devils
Their gore;

Yet, the soul
Lives on—the way of good
Lives on, despite the slayer,

Dead already… his spirit a furnace
Stoked for hell…

The assassin strikes, leaving no face
Of honor—then alone in the dark
There is more than Cowardice
To contend with:

The innocent leeching up,

Comforted out of earth

Rising, leaving pain behind—

Each prayer spoken
In their names
Hurries them peace;

Each tear shed for those
Injured and lost

Understandably tepid with
Christ love and forgiveness

Will be forever an acid
To slayer’s soul—

He, the one who lost
More than body
Or parts—

His spirit an eternal
Phantom Limb
Of fiery unrest

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