Today,
Boston mourns. The events that have led us here have been widely reported. They
have also escaped description. Words of mourning and loss have their limits.
Things have
changed indelibly in our city, and our words have described that, but they do not compare to the heaviness in our
hearts, the lumps in our throats, or the tears in our eyes. Our grief is a
silent one, because the words that would contain it cannot be found.
Likewise, words
of comfort and hope cannot be contained. But those we have in abundance, and we are thankful for them.
Boston,
today, is a case of the human condition: that our emotions are conflicted –
that they coexist despite their divergence – that at the same time we grieve,
we hope.
We have
heard words that inspire us today, from our religious leaders, our mayor, our
governor, and our president. Even these words cannot contain our hope, because long after their utterance, our hearts will still be lifted, our song will still be sung, and our eyes will still shine bright. These speakers have given us more than words: they have reminded us that we are the City of Boston, and we are not
just strong, we are Boston strong.
Think to your
childhood, about what strong meant
then. Strong was sixty home runs, strong was Superman saving Metropolis. To me, strong seemed superhuman because I didn’t
know what it was. Today, I know it is not simply physical or emotional; it
comes from one’s will. It is the knowledge
not necessarily of what to do (and whether you are prepared or not), but the setting
out to do something because it is
right.
In its
response to this tragedy, Boston has shown its strength, and Boston is
beautiful for it. Let us all do something (even something small) to keep Boston beautiful – plant flowers,
paint a picture, run, write.
Boston, you
are loved.
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