for those changed forever
and for their mothers and fathers
friends and lovers.
They were out enjoying each other
listening to music and laughter
languages of the soul, both, when
their world was violently assaulted
I weep, too, for the shooter
of an age to know better
but he didn't and his pain
has become ours
Why didn't he kill himself first?
I ask this, too
Did he require the deaths of so many
to feel guilt enough for that?
Why didn't he kill himself first?
and save us our pain
was suicide an after-thought
the guilt of so much harm?
How often … I ask … and why
does a single person's pain
become so great as to cause
a whole nation to weep?
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