That there is another shooting comes as no surprise, it is commonplace now, expected and there are only questions: how many this time, what kind of weapon was used, what motivated the shooter to do it.
What does it say when we define mass killing as requiring three or more dead bodies in one place.
The body of the single victim is no less dead than the mass killed but death by gun is so commonplace, we roll right by it unless we know the victim or the location holds special significance to us.
So we have ceded our humanity to the Almighty Weapon, all we have are prayers, for we are now too tired to be angry, and mass anger is our only hope.
As the rivers dry up and lakes become ponds we are finding things we never thought we would see. An old warship in Europe, dinosaur footprints, cars and, sadly, the bones of some. We stop momentarily to marvel at these discoveries, then withdraw to our homes where we hope we can escape the heat, our air conditioners working overtime, the power plants strained. Yet we never stop to think that the day may be too soon coming when it will be our bones littering the landscape, victims of our own abuse of the planet we thought that we held dominion over.
First published in OUR CHANGING EARTH: Vol.1. The Poet. 2023.
If a beggar approaches do you turn away from him. If a rich man calls to you, do you receive him openly. How do you tell them apart?
If a poor thief in fine, stolen silks stands before you what do you offer in welcome, and what for his battered victim now wearing the thief’s discards. The fool finds an easy answer, the wise man awaits the stick.