Shootings have always had a great affect one me. I think one of the major reasons is because the Columbine shootings happened on my 18th birthday. Those shootings, like all shootings, were a thievery of innocence for everyone. For me, every time another one of these senseless acts occur it reminds me of having a BBQ at my house in Santa Barbara when I was 18 and having about 40 friends over. Many of them were still in high-school but ditched class to celebrate my birthday with me. I remember feeling blessed to have so many friends and I also remember someone coming into my backyard, telling everyone about the shootings when they first started. What was a a day of celebration under a beautiful April sun quickly turned into a crowded gang of teenagers crowded into my living room to watch the news as this tragic event unfolded.
It has been a hard time for me recently with all the the terror that has taken place. A little over a month ago there was a mall shooting 8 miles away from where I live. Shortly after that there was the horror that occurred in Newtown. Then shortly before Christmas my mother called me late one night to tell me that while Christmas shopping in her local mall a man opened fire in the parking lot, shooting over 50 rounds. My mother was in the food court at the time with my cousin and luckily no one was injured.
It has been a rough month in general but these shootings have made it an especially dark time. I’m sorry for going on a long, emotional rant but I’m a writer and writers and an emotional bunch. 🙂 I’ve written these 2 poems in the last few weeks. Please give them a read and let me know what you think. I hope they don’t offend anyone.
Here I am with you, myself again
Clustered drops of tears like drained compassion
This skinny, frail body that knows it’s lost
I watch, wondering how much shadow can pour from a soul
That greedy, unsatisfied darkness that questions beliefs
The white faced man forces unwanted angels
as the schoolyard asks questions that can never be answered
In violated numbness all innocence is infected
And every poetic verse is an insult to thick silence
Doves scatter under paper cloud sunbeams
Following ancestors to bathe in God-intoxicated beauty
Karma, what a disgusting debt you’ve collected
Sharp white paper screams unsettling silence
And every beautiful woman’s kiss has fallen to tasteless gray
This chest is now but a void where thunder tumbles down
Under a rust filled sunset, Portland rain makes no sound
And East Coast mothers stare with glass eyes
At religious leaders who can offer only jumbled words
In dream-quaking remorse, memories scream like knifes
And compassion is but a phantom limb, reminding us only of loss
Holes within our screaming hearts, like so many small graves