Thursday, July 9, 2020
Musings in a Time of Crisis XXXIV
Fatal Celebration (July 3-5)
In memory of 9 children lost to gun violence
on Independence Day Weekend, 2020
They were six
and seven, sometimes
as young
as four, sometimes
as old as eleven
two were
two were seven
two six two eight
the one just four, well
here our eyes land
and do not move
If you ask where
they came from
I could answer
Everywhere but
that would be wrong
We know today
they numbered nine
Let us name them
and if not, then
their play places:
Atlanta; Avon, Indiana;
Chicago; Columbia,
Missouri; Galivants
Ferry, South Carolina;
Hoover, Alabama;
Philadelphia;
San Francisco
Washington, D.C.
Lives taken now
noted, new numbers
added to archives
to help us remember
they died by gun
on our July 4 weekend
their fatal celebration
lost among the sounds
of bursting rockets
the sparklers held
in their tight little fists
raised against the red glare
________________________________
https://gunviolencearchive.org
Even during this pandemic, the children continue to die. I wish I knew their names, and not their incident numbers.
Labels:
African Americans,
deaths,
grief,
gun violence,
Independence Day,
July 4,
loss,
poem,
poetry,
society
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