Thoughts & Prayers
[Listen to an audio version of this poem here.]
This poem is not based on a true story. It is a poem. It is a story.
Like everyone, I am gutted from the most recent school shooting. I am numb to the atrocities of a country where such violence is not uncommon. I think a lot of us feel like we should say something, but what? Like we should do something, but how? It seems uncomplicated to ban assault weapons. To implement more stringent background checks for the most deadly of guns, and yet. Not everyone should have a gun, and no civilian should have an assault rifle. Just like not everybody should be able to drive a car. The insanity of ignoring the obvious is infuriating.
We say it is a mental health issue, while making mental health care expensive and inaccessible to the very people who need it most. We say it's not the gun, it's the shooter, ignoring the fact that without the weapon, the shooter is unequipped to shoot. We say we care about the lives of everyone, yet we dangle in a void, wondering what can be done. In feeling powerless to change anything, I turned to poetry. Not because it helps anyone, but because sometimes, words are all we have. And sometimes, words matter.
Thoughts & Prayers
when I was young
I'd sit and watch my father
clean his gun
a Winchester 70
he used to hunt deer
I didn't place guns and fear
in the same sentence, then
kept my innocence
when we were young
we went to school every day
said the Pledge of Allegiance
an American flag hanging
from the chalkboard
freedom isn't free they say
this is the land of the brave
home of the great
when we were young
Mrs. Johnson gave us popsicles
to welcome summer break
red rings of sweetness framing our faces
red like a Midwest sunset
red like a target
red like blood
and we sang God bless America
land that I love
when I was young
I learned about war
in a theoretical sense
learned that my grandfather
was in Vietnam and worked
on Navy ship
but he never talks about it
he can't
witnessing murder buries a hurt so deep
it bleeds into everything
when we were young
there was a parade on Veterans Day
we sang the national anthem
oh say, can't you see?
and my grandfather stood proudly
and we clapped, loudly
America America
God shed his wrath on thee
when I was young
I asked Mrs. Johnson
why there were men outside
and I was told to hold my tongue
told to wait
told it wasn't safe, yet
and I hid beneath my desk
ever since, we teach our children
to practice being murdered
tell teachers this is the new normal
tell parents not to worry
tell the world children
are priority
this is America
where at least we think we're free
when we were young
we took a field trip to a cave
saved dollars for the gift shop
where Mrs. Johnson gave us all
a tumbled rock as a keepsake
we stood at the bottom
of the cave
deep as an anchor
deep as a grave
nothing is as dark as it is underground
nothing can muffle the sound of screaming
nothing can cease
the gunfire bleeding
war is a pretty artsy metaphor
for shit that don't make sense
like unmitigated violence
like lawmakers standing up
for the rights of guns
with more veracity than
they fight for real human beings
when we were young
we had the world at our feet
had that wide-eyed belief
in everything
believed what they told us
freedom isn't free
but this is a land of savagery
and bloodshed
a never-ending news cycle
widespread denial
aren't you tired?
when I was young
I never thought I would grow up
but I did
never expected children
to be the ones not to live
today, in the aftermath
of another massacre
we offer thoughts and pray
that the stairway to heaven
is paved in gold for our babies
nobody knows what else to say
the weight of disgrace
hangs heavy on our tongues
tomorrow, the news anchors
will move on to another tragedy
gaze into cameras and smile
aren't you tired?
P.S. Read "In the Loop" by Bob Hickock, who worked at Virginia Tech in 2007 during the time of that shooting or read about how other countries regulate guns here.
xoxo
Sarah Rose