I love France.
I’ve been there many times.
In fact, I love it so much, I’d even go as far as calling it my spiritual home.
I posted this poem a couple of years ago after the Boston bombing.
I can’t think of anything more poignant right now, other than to repost it in memory of all the people who lost their lives, not just in Paris, but also in Beirut and Egypt.
The Diameter of the Bomb
The diameter of the bomb was thirty centimeters
And the diameter of its effective range about seven meters,
With four dead and eleven wounded.
And around these, in a larger circle
Of pain and time, two hospitals are scattered
And one graveyard. But the young woman
Who was buried in the city she came from,
At a distance of more than a hundred kilometers,
Enlarges the circle considerably,
And the solitary man mourning her death
At the distant shores of a country far across the sea
Includes the entire world in the circle.
And I won’t even mention the crying of orphans
That reaches up to the throne of God and
A circle with no end and no God.