[I wrote this a few years ago after a rash of public shootings, and I submitted in a poetry contest on Sunday just hours before the shooting in Vegas.  I don’t even know why I chose this poem for the contest.  Life is strange that way.]

A man is fallen…sees his loved one

Lying with her chest agape

And fighting for each passing breath.

His own leg shot and bleeding freely,

Drags himself along her side

And sees her life is fading fast…

Takes her hand and squeezes gently…

Begs her not to leave so soon…

Brings her hand up to his face

And slowly lets it fall away…

Pulls her close into his arms…

Her lifeless face up to his chest

And cries, “Oh God, where are you now?”

 

And the heavens ring, “Await the Day!”

For judgment comes to bear away

The sting of death…the smoking gun.

Its witness borne by souls set free into the light

That cry, “O’ death where is thy sting!”

And those still here upon the earth

Lament, “But what for me?”

And the angels sing while the casings ring,

- ting…ting…ting…ting -

“But ‘til judgment…”