There are too many funerals
Too many bodies
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 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
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.