Because we all want to write more poems.
Reflection on the tragedy in Graham
I have two sons
and life goes on.
I get up the next morning
and avoid the headlines.
My sons are grown
his were at the age where they love their daddy
with kisses and hugs and crayon drawings of kisses and hugs
They ran from the car ahead of the social worker to greet him
My sons are not perfect, but they are mine and I love them
I read a quote saying he was a narcissist who loved no one but himself
There have been years where I loved everyone but myself.
My sons, I would have died to protect.
I work in schools and life goes on
Today, I will see hundreds of children who love their daddies
Dozens who are afraid of their daddies
Many who don't have daddies.
I may see children who know their daddy's secret
I might see children who are starting to remember things
Children who are telling
Children in danger.
This is life and it goes on
Every day for those of us who are lucky
enough not to have seen,
Not to have remembered.
Is there a heaven for children?
Is there a god who dispenses justice
After the fact?
What is justice after this?
Braden and Charles, you are my sons now
You are our sons now
Too late to matter
Too late for life to go on
- Neil McKay's Shared Poems
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Comments
Benjamin Gorman
February 6, 2012
Permalink
Timely
I saw this news item, too. Reading your poem reminded me of one I'd written about another homicide in the news from a couple years back: a student in VA who played la crosse beat his ex girlfriend to death. In an odd coincidence, after I read your poem, I happened upon a news item describing that man's trial about to commence. The news certainly loves to popularize these gruesome stories. Are they, in fact, on the increase-- per capita, or however one would scientifically compare murder rates over time? Horrific, in any event.