Unleashed by a mad hand
the intemperate projectile
forged in freedom frozen in folly
flung from the hammer
with lethal force
bore a hole that can’t be filled.
A hole in a head. A hole in a heart.
A hole in a life. A country. A Constitution.
A hole that can’t be filled.
When did a school become a foxhole?
A place of worship a coffin?
A concert a cowering sea of annihilation?
A walk down the street a jungle patrol?
Looking out the window a high wire act?
A bathtub a bunker? A porcelain refuge.
Compassion and common sense flung asunder.
Tossed to the winds of cupidity and confusion.
Young lives. Ageless sorrow.
We live to honor the lost.
Sacrificed in senseless violence.
Fighting to right wrongs.
Courage comforting grief.
Staring down the barrel
of a hole that can’t be filled.
—
Jack Brown is a New York-based writer & activist. Part time carny. Full time Shakespearean skeptic.
