advent journal: sandy hook


I tried prose tonight
but all I could do was drop
a gravel load of anger
in the middle of the page
this is no time for stones

I tried to be relevant
but all I could do was take
my best shot in the ranting wars
in hopes of getting hits
this is not a competition

I tried to be hopeful
so all I could do was turn
off the media assault and sit
quietly with my helplessness
under the sorrow and stars

I wrote, instead, a poem
an act of faith and futility
a word-shield against real bullets
a whisper in the whirlwind
but Rachel is still weeping



  1. Sometimes Jim and I read aloud something to each other, usually when someone has put our thoughts into words in a way that reflects them more clearly than we ever could. This was one of those times. Thank you, Milton.

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