The theological and literary jottings of a Deacon and novelist. Writing ersatz Victorian fiction in the age of the e-book, and trying to walk the Way.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Boston, April 15, 2013
Tell me again
When the victims are singing
And the Laws of Remorse are restored
Tell me again
That you know what I’m thinking
But vengeance belongs to the Lord
Tell me again
When I’m clean and I’m sober
Tell me again
When I’ve seen through the horror
Tell me again
Tell me over and over
Tell me that you love me then
Amen…
The father of Martin William Richard today said he is trying to both grieve the death of his 8-year-old son, who was killed at the Boston Marathon bombings, and help his wife and daughter recover from injuries they suffered during the terrorist attack on Monday.
“My dear son Martin has died from injuries sustained in the attack on Boston. My wife and daughter are both recovering from serious injuries,’’ Bill Richard said in a statement released this afternoon. “We thank our family and friends, those we know and those we have never met, for their thoughts and prayers. I ask that you continue to pray for my family as we remember Martin.’’
Of course, there is more:
Tell me again
When the day has been ransomed
And the night has no right to begin
Try me again
When the angels are panting
And scratching at the door to come in
Tell me again
When I’m clean and I’m sober
Tell me again
When I’ve seen through the horror
Tell me again
Tell me over and over
Tell me that you need me then
Amen…
As she did every year, Krystle Campbell of Arlington went to Copley Square for the finish of the Boston Marathon, drawn by the euphoria of crowds cheering runners through the final paces of the race.
“She’s been doing it since she was a little girl,” said her grandmother, Lillian Campbell of Somerville. “She didn’t miss a Marathon, watching it at the finish line.”
****
Krystle moved to Arlington about a year ago after helping her grandmother recuperate from an operation. She was 29 and would have turned 30 on May 3, her grandmother said.
“She took care of me for almost two years after I had an operation,” said Lillian, who lives in Somerville. “She moved right into my house with me for two years.
Krystle, she added, “was special. She’s a hard worker and she was always right there if you needed her. All you had to do was call Krystle, and she was there.”
Lillian added that her granddaughter “was one of those people who always have to be doing something for somebody.”
Tell me again
When the filth of the butcher
Is washed in the blood of the lamb
Tell me again
When the rest of the culture
Has passed through the Eye of the Camp
Tell me again
When I’m clean and I’m sober
Tell me again
When I’ve seen through the horror
Tell me again
Tell me over and over
Tell me that you love me then
Amen…
Think of these three, all of the injured and maimed, and then--here's the part you can help me with--let's close our hearts to hate. Because these three young people deserve better from us than to have their deaths caused into a cause. No continuing the cycle, let us not madden ourselves with words: [and] damn ourselves because it feels grand to throw oil on the flaming hell of our own temper. Martin, Krystie, the lost student, and all those whose lives have been shattered and mauled by this deserve better than that.
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