After Pulse

There are too many funerals

Too many bodies

Always innocent

Always someones baby


I do not know what to do with all the mourning

Where else can I house this pain?

This body is filled with names and faces of people

Faces of murdered people

People murdered by other people

And how many mothers can we cry for?

How many fathers and lovers and sisters?

How many brother will we bury this week?


The death toll is rising

And we are just watching

Just posting

Just feeling sorry

Feeling sad, feeling feelings


My mother has a gun

In the top drawer of her dresser

It was her fathers

I suppose one day I too might inherit it

It will collect dust

It will sit

And die

A slow death before I will ever put a finger on its trigger.


I will not cradle it like a child

Will not worry about its safety

Will not value it over people

I will cradle people

Will love people

Protect people- who look and feel different than me

Because their existence does not threaten mine

Their love does not bother me

Their love inspires me


So anywhere I am, you are welcome

You are safe. You are loved

I am with you. I am with you. I am you.