Columbine

A man came to my door today;
His face stoney and mouth filled with dirt.
He looked very solemn and I knew
My life, as I'd known it, was over.
He didn't know what to say after
Ripping my heart out of my chest.
He shuffled from foot to foot,
Wanting to be anywhere but with me;
I was glad when he left me there,
Bleeding on the floor.
I sat in the corner with my son's baby book
And counted the teeth I'd saved;
Each one filled with a treasured memory.
How I longed to run my fingers thru his hair;
Kiss him good night; even scold
Him for being tardy with his school work.
I sat in the dark, listening to the clock
Measuring the seconds in my life;
Each one a little death.
And I wondered, how could it be
That I'd been able to drag my boy thru
All the dangers of childhood,
Finally reaching a point where I could
Sit back and take a well deserved rest;
Thinking that his future was my own.
Aside from bits of bone, a lock
Of hair and a lifetime of memories and
Regrets, I have nothing;
Nothing but the cold realization that
Permanence is a concept we trick ourselves
Into believing so we can sleep at night.
Can I ever close my eyes again and not
See the footage, the eye witness accounts?
His life has been reduced to a sad footnote
On a life gone bad.
Who will remember us when the next shot
Is fired, the next son or daughter is killed?
Who will care?

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