He said

This is our f****n’ city

A city rocked with a blast

A city numbed in the aftermath

A city littered with shards of deadly metal

A city clinging together

He said

[The city] is the perfect state of grace

A city surrounded by the cries of battle

A city threaded with a line of red bricks

A city marked by the graves of history

A city older than most

He said

It’s one of America’s iconic cities. It’s one of the world’s greatest cities.

A city filled with parking yah cah in Hahvahd yahd to get some cahfee or chowdah

A city steeped in the tea of the East India Company

A city covered with the banners of sports champions

A city open to lonely hearts

I say

I am one in a million. I am Beantown-bred.

I say

There is no way to relight lives or reattach limbs.

I say

Innocence runs away with youth.

He wrote

No more hurting people. Peace.

I write

A mixture of fury, tears, and pain, of relief, joy, and recovery.

We say

They picked the wrong city.

We say

We are Boston Strong.

We say

We are wrapped in our tragedy, in our past, in our present, in our future.

They will say

What they will say.


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