I think the issue
That I frequently come back to
I never know
What kind of day it will be
If it were
Our last.
Poetry, short prose, & general musings.
I think the issue
That I frequently come back to
I never know
What kind of day it will be
If it were
Our last.
On this All Souls’ Day
We plead, we pray
We call Your name
As we step on leaves
Whose time has passed
They slowly rejoin the earth
Allow our hearts to feel
The sorrow of loss
Yet the hope of Your light
As eternity peeks into our shadow
A small, burning ray
Into a vast, deep cave
I feel Your hand join mine
You call us forward
Each painful moment to feel & share
Your love.

Active shooter
Drop my work
Drive like mad
Where are my children?
Where is my niece?
Please God, not us
Bring peace, please, bring peace.
Two families left standing
When the rest have filed out
Where are their children?
Still lying in a pew
Their last breath now gone
Oh God. Please, no.
Add us to the list
Communities torn by love
Of America’s Gun.
116 bullets
3 minutes went by
Semi automatic rifle
Terror to our lives.
——
Children hiding under pews
Little bodies lying flat
Like they had practiced
Sweet lives under attack.
——
Shield the windows
Armor the doors
Hand teachers a weapon
Practice dropping to floors.
——
Add fences, barbed wire
To the perimeter of play space
To keep out evil men
Seeking notoriety— their place.
——
Why do we allow
Access to a machine
Causing such horror
Imagine this scene:
——
Parents who no longer
Can put their child to sleep
Students scared of windows
We weep. We weep.
——
The American’s gun
Who could have foreseen?
You have captured hearts
Armalite 15
——
Our children’s blood cries out
Please value us more
Than owning a weapon
Designed for war.
