Was it a bird or was it destiny?

Pregnant belly and depression.

Weather mirroring her soul.

She sent her kids to her sisters for safe keeping,

One she kept with her and might take with her also.

‘Give me a sign’ she screams at God, Goddess and Universe.

A bird, too stupid to find shelter in a storm or there for a purpose?

A hawk told her not to do it and she didn’t.

So am I here because of a bird or destiny?

ONESIE

I have got a Onesie

I wear it all the time

It covers up my blemishes

It makes me feel sublime

If I were to take it off

Then my allure would fade

Thank heaven for my Onesie

It helps me make the grade.

Trouble is, I've got an itch

And it won't go away

I'll have to take my Onesie off

To combat the decay

I've other ailments deep inside

That need attending to

Perhaps I'll leave my Onesie off

To let The Lord get through.

If Isaiah, Jeremiah and Ezekiel were alive today, most churches would not let them near the pulpit. 

Too negative. 

Too judgemental. 

Elijah would not even be allowed to enter the temple. 

Too much fire.

On the day the world ends

I wear a crown

And you wear an eyepatch.

We sit on our roof and watch the

City burn.

The cockroaches put on

Party hats,

And the birds whistle the

Ending credit theme,

As they shake soot

From their feathers.

On the day the world ends

The sun screams as she

Melts into a purple sky.

The stars wink silver

And the moon weeps blue

Until all the colors

Blend together.

On the day the world ends

We all bleed the same.

I tell you that it's the most

Beautiful thing

I've ever seen.

You trace your finger along

The smoldering shingles

And write "I know"

Into the ashes.

The deepest secret

that I never told

was that I killed a child

when I was thirteen.

She was bright

and dreamed

of space travel

and of inventing fantastic machines.

I yanked her from

her fluffy bed,

dragged her to the living room,

turned on the TV.

I stabbed her eyes

with a steely knife

formed of 

pictures

of sand dunes and 

of tanks exploding.

And I whimpered to her

as darkness

replaced the life that bled from her:

"That is where your daddy is"

I took a gun

and shot her ears

with the cries

of starved children

and the shrieks of vultures

ready to devour.

And I screamed at her

through salty tears:

"It's too late for you to save them!"

Her knees wobbled

somehow still alive

on life support

from the small light of hope

that drove her youthful soul.

And so I mustered

the shred of strength -or fear- left of me,

to explain

in a soft whisper

that some people

lose all hope

that they extinguish their light

entirely.

And at this, her color drained

from red

to white

to blue,

the same colors

as it happens

that her father

could be wrapped in.

I killed a child

when I was thirteen.

I killed a child

and that child was me.

#ProseChallenge #DeepestSecrets

A fickle and feeble

frightened old man

used to make watches,

wound Times' hands

bound them behind 

the glass of the clocks.

Tick Tick Tock

the seconds fade off

and the feeble man

spends his

lunging at them

but they all get away, 

trying 

to capture every moment

with his watches

he fails to see 

that his time is soon to run out.

Death

by grandfather clock.

I know a fair number of people in Orlando, including my older sister who lives there and friends/acquaintances who work there... I heard it through my Twin first, then the news, then Facebook where there was a sudden flood of Gun Control campaigns and memes. It pissed me off.

It pissed me off to read a woman commenting on another woman's "Guns aren't the problem" post, saying along the lines of, "I hope a gunman doesn't go to your kids school and start shooting, would you want gun control then?" I am paraphrasing there, but reading it, feeling what I felt, I realized I have a passionate opinion on the topic too. So what would I do? As it happened, when I jumped into that online conversation, I was asked that question. "What's your solution?"

Guns aren't the problem. People are the problem. I don't mean that in terms of "kill all the people!" as you might imagine, but in terms of... If you take a gun out of a murderers hands, what do you have? A murderer with no gun. If you take the murderous impulses from a murderer with a gun, what do you have? A human with a gun.

Of course, then there's the debate and moral inquiry about how to take away murderous impulses-- its not quite as simple as banning guns which is enforced by law. In the goal of minimizing murder, it becomes about human behavior. Sure, there are killers out there literally incapable of compassion, but most of them, statistically speaking, could have taken a different path if they had the opportunity, insight, and even people who care enough about them to show them, lead by example, and understand people learn differently, yet are all influenced by one another.

The issue, is that it takes a tragedy like #Pulse, for communities to forget their differences for the sake of their similarities (like, just being human) to band together in open ended support.

If you could imagine a world where people gave that level of support to total strangers, every day... things like starvation, long term domestic abuse, blood donation shortages, protests against groups of people, and so on, wouldn't be an issue. These are also things that lead to murder and suicide. Too, when you have these anti-community communities, where most people "mind their own business" or are too busy with their own lives to think about others, or show compassion when they can use judgement to excuse themselves from caring... you have a culture that breeds a level of independence that boils down to solitude for many people. Where they feel like no one in the world cares about them, so why should they care about anyone else? Mass murderers, consciously or not, often want to make themselves matter, and what gets more attention than mass murder?

My solution is simple in principal: Care more about people and less about inanimate objects. Spend time showing people, even strangers, they're worth a hello, worth sharing your lunch with, worth sparing whatever change is in your pocket, worth prying even when they make a big deal about not wanting you to-- because you can tell they need help. Care enough to put your shopping cart in the designated collection spot. Care enough to use your blinker so other drivers know where you're going and can react accordingly. Care enough to hold a door, man or woman, especially if their hands are full. Care enough to check on your neighbor if you haven't crossed paths in a few days. Care enough to teach children how to tolerate differences for the sake of similarities, so their generation wont suffer as ours have, and those before us. Care to understand someone elses perspective before dismissing them. Care enough to step up when you know in your gut someone's doing something wrong, even if it's just calling for help or telling someone who can help. Care enough to know and understand, that wrong-doer is a person to, and there's a reason-- even if it seems senseless-- why they're doing what they're doing.

If we did these thing, even the simple ones that seem like they shouldn't matter, there would be less to build on those damaged mentalities, the skewed perspectives who've been in the darkness so long they no longer recognize the light. If we cared more about people as a whole, in general, just for being people, a lot of murders wouldn't be murderers, because they wouldn't feel the way they feel, they wouldn't have reason to think the way they think...

I know, because I could have been a murderer, I wanted to be a murderer, and if I didn't have people in my life who cared, who treated me better than I treated others, I might have been one before I realized it was my perspective of the world that made things so grim. A perspective spawned by what I witnessed and experienced myself growing up.

I didn't change, until my experiences changed. Help others experience change, care more about people, just for being people.

|| another_proser ||