“What does it mean?” He asked.

“I don’t know” I replied

I just liked how it sounded

Liked how the words tasted

Liked how they rolled off my tongue when I spoke them sweet and soft.

“Does it matter what it means?” I asked

“I suppose it doesn’t,” he answered “since I’m the only one who cares.”

– RM

Reflection

My best friend sends me poems. For a while, he sent one every day, two if he was going through it, three if s*** really hit the fan. In the last month or two, the consistency has slowed. It ebbs and flows with his free time and creative energy, but this week I’ve gotten more poems than there are days.

See, my friend lives in Rhode Island. He works in higher education—not at Brown University, but in a state that small, that kind of violence and fear ripples out—it’s felt everywhere. In New England, there’s a “if you go after one of us, you go after all of us” kind of mentality. Anyway, working in higher ed, my friend is no stranger to the impacts of this kind of violence because it is so common now that many students in college today are likely to have already experienced or been impacted by one school shooting before getting to college.

I think for a lot of us, it’s easier now than it should be—easier than it ever was—to get desensitized to it all. To get complacent. Passive. The commonness and the screaming into the void makes it feel like there’s nothing we can do. But this week my friend has been capital “A” Angry—as he should be. As we all should be, every time this happens, until and even after it stops happening.

The poem above isn’t one of my friends, it’s mine. I wrote it after being inspired by his anger. Inspired by the fire he has. Inspired by the inaction of lawmakers, the dead end prayers of onlookers and Facebook commenters.

The poem above calls out the fact that all the talking some people do has little more meaning than the impressions they are trying to solicit. The facade they are keeping up to maintain popularity in the court of public opinion.

I wrote this poem because if what we say is without action, if what we say is not backed by our beliefs and or desire to change the things that hurt us most, our words are empty. And if our words are empty, what’s the point…

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.,” – the Lorax

The poem in this piece has also been shared by the author on her personal social media.