If you are in a storm,
let the rain fall as it may,
and know that a rainbow awaits you
once the clouds go away.
When you reach the time
when that light turns on,
when you believe the self-reflection,
what it tells you, what you see,
I hope you find the help you need.
We are not put here with the
wherewithal to heal,
or express how we feel.
One generation can’t teach another
when they weren’t taught to deal
with the single hardest thing there is to do:
confront our trauma
before it spreads from me to you.
There is no guide
to explain
this cyclical pain.
And standing up to it can feel
like standing in front of a train
moving at full speed,
hoping that you’ll be
the switch track you need.
But please…
Know that to not know
is completely okay,
as long as you seek the answers
to the questions that keep you at bay,
on the edge of pride and peace,
I hope you finally can begin to find relief.
You can look ahead
and reflect on before
while keeping your feet planted
firmly on the floor.
The present is a gift
from the past.
A chance to enjoy
what you’ve worked towards
and a chance to
make change everlast.
My mind is a traffic jam
of words and thoughts.
I thought I ought to
write them down.
But as I approach the scene
I see a crash,
so I look for
another way around.
I see a golden moon tonight,
large in the distance,
shining in the dark.
I think about you,
my baby girl,
who I bond with
in the dark.
How perfect we named you
about my favorite part
of a galaxy so big
I can’t comprehend.
The moon’s glow
must reflect
all the sunshine you send.
We can’t mourn
before we’re asked
to mourn again.
We can’t grieve before
we have to believe
it’s happened
again.
We can’t catch our breaths
before the deaths
accumulate.
It’s far too late.
Far too late.
And all the while
some carry on and smile
in some acceptance
of the norm.
We can’t live our
lives worrying,
I’m told.
But when we will grasp
that our inability
for empathy
holds us back
from being
the very kind of people
our children lack.
Compassion is the compass
that will guide us
to a place not far
if we’re brave enough to
hold compassion
behind our teeth
and in our hearts.
Poverty’s a choice
our world makes it
possible and cyclical,
I can’t take it
every time I see a
crime committed
I think, why are we surprised?
It’s us who did it.
Systematically
we choose our future
and then we patch it up
only with sutures
and wonder why
the wounds still open up
instead of wondering
how we can stop
the bleeding,
the hunger,
the abuse.
Too many people
with the mindset
“there’s no use.”
Just maybe if we
focused on prevention,
if the people who need help
got our attention,
collectively we’d build
the place we need,
but selectively
we can’t seem to agree
on what that looks like,
on what we look like,
too much money spent
to make us disagree.
Those who spend it
would rather us not see
all the things they try to hide,
all of the greed.
These are fights
they design
with the intention
to blind.
And we fall victim
to the crime
every time.
Poverty’s a choice,
why do we make it
possible and cyclical,
I can’t take it
every time I see a
crime committed
I think, why are we surprised?
It’s us who did it.
Too many beds suddenly empty tonight.
Those kids too young to comprehend
the evil of one man,
and our willingness to arm him.
The harm lives on
with moms and dads
whose hearts cannot handle
the holes they are now scarred with.
Look them in the eye
and ask them why.
Look them in the eye
and ask them why.
Those who see
children shot dead
and choose the status quo
instead.
I’m sure that they’ll pretend
thoughts and prayers can make amends,
as people argue relentlessly
over and over again.
But talking is a sin
because what we need is a cure.
And one may never be found
because a cure must be searched for.
Look them in the eye
and ask them why.
Look them in the eye
and ask them why.
Like a faucet
the thoughts,
they pour out
like the water
that drips
from my eyes,
heavy from the day,
I am tired of this way,
this path we’ve chosen,
death over life.