The River Red

Every so often, a tragedy, an act of terrorism, occurs that leaves the world heart heavy and unable to comprehend.

Run for glory, run for pride.
Run for your life.
Applause and cheers,
sweat and smiles fall to silence,
punctured only by
screams and tears.

As people swarm,
willing to attend,
a silent stream trickles
between their feet,
seeping down,
joining the river in the road.

The flags are still again,
their colours marred
and fouled.
The sanguine stench
fills the noses                                                                                                                                                                 of the fallen.

If only the sun were
the universal god we worshipped,
life would still remain beloved.
Praise among kindred,
the stain of hatred laundered,
the World pristine.

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