First Light

<p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>In 2013 I survived the Boston Marathon Bombing. First Light serves as a guide from the time of the bombing to my life with PTSD my experience with healing relationships and motherhood. In the courtroom I told the bomber that I know one day I'll be a better mother and my husband a better father because we will show our children all that is good in this world; all there is to be thankful for. This collection is a tribute to that commitment and a testament to the idea that we can keep going.</span></p><p><br></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Like a prism in a window trying to catch first light</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Or last light. </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>I'll wiggle and wrangle and wonder:</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Why are my clues jumbled? </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Why does first light and last night </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>morning dew and evening mist- </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Why do they all feel the same?</span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>Imprisoned in a body that begs for its compass to right. </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>I keep searching. </span></p><p><span style=color: rgba(0 0 0 1)>For first I mean last I mean first light. </span></p><p><br></p><p><br></p>