Just an ordinary morning, fingers of light
filtering softly through the trees,
a sleepy chirp from a waking sparrow.
I plug in the kettle for tea,
turn on the tv.
Breaking news:
another shooting.
More young people killed,
a fallen officer,
who died protecting lives.
More parents grieving.
What fuels this shooter-rage?
How do we heal it?
When will there be
ordinary mornings again,
that don't report
a shooting?
for Kerry's prompt at Real Toads: How does the story end? I wish I knew.
This is so poignant. Hopefully those mornings will arrive soon, Sherry.💞
ReplyDeleteyou've definitely captured the jarring interruption of a "normal morning" -- or should that be "mourning"? ...
ReplyDeleteI particularly like the "fingers of light, filtering softly through the trees ... " works so well with the sleepy chirp of waking sparrow ...
and then - the "harrowing" ....
this poem does the clever - split and divide ... which makes it strong for the words ... content, ideas notwithstanding... so well done with the "writing devices" ... and for the content? well ... sad treadmill of horrors ... and the most troubling of questions, which we can't answer ...
Your final line creates the juxtaposition very well, Sherry.. but such a sad note on which to begin one's day.
ReplyDeleteSherry you have done a very good job, you tell how your morning begins, and then the change, you turned on TV, the breaking news awful. We live in a sad time....
ReplyDeleteI don't watch the news anymore. I bury my head in the sand like an ostrich and then you come along and bring reality. We live in sad and dangerous times. I wonder when the next person will snap and bring death.
ReplyDeleteGood questions. I hope that one day that is the case. I can't stand to watch the news anymore, yet there is still hope, somehow.
ReplyDeleteSadly, Sherry, your great grandchild, Luna, may be blessed with this hope. For I fear, we're cursed, as long as, we allow guns to be taken and used, so casually. Until then, just hope and pray that these events become more rarer than today.
ReplyDeleteI adore the beautiful opening, especially the first line. Then it gets ugly. :)
ReplyDeleteI wish that I knew, too, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteI wonder too... this one hit me especially hard, as I actually lived for four month right across Ventura Freeway from the place of the shooting.
ReplyDeleteOh, it seems we end up seeking answers to these questions when violence has already become the new "ordinary". I too loved the beginning and how the juxtaposition of a calm morning with the reception of that news works well on so many levels.
ReplyDeleteOh, I wish to never have another ordinary bullet morning again. I too wish we could find answers and a solution to ending it.
ReplyDeleteThe mother who said "I don't want any more prayers..." got to me. She wants solutions, actions. Prayers are the beginning of course, but if we don't follow up with our prayers and words of sorrow - then what good are they? We need to DO something or it just falls apart... I cried when I heard her - my mother's heart understands!
ReplyDeleteWhen indeed? Both viewers (waking to the unshattered everyday of their lives) and victims (of days forever shattered) are trapped in events they can neither respond to nor recover from. How many times have we heard a grieving friend say they never thought it could happen here, or a devastated mother say they don't wan't prayers? Maybe the octopus eye of digital media holds us everfast and increasingly impotent to the daily pour of rampage, but we poets have to stay raw and keep singing. Our beautiful worlds must somehow bear the grief of the same world. I do think its something the community (like this one) can help carry. Full hearts know both beauty and grief.
ReplyDeleteThe world we live in grows smaller...so sad.
ReplyDelete