For once, I won’t use anonymity as a veil. We’ve done this before. I come to you with the sincerest one night stands. Sloppy stanzas about an hour glass that’s stingy with its sand. Understand, I lay on send like a pillow you’ve just risen from. I learned loneliness from birthdays. Even the wishes didn’t come-true. I crawl back to the sheets and ask how they were lucky enough to hold you.
1. After the initial shock and 24 hour coverage, individual stories will begin to pour out.
2. Videos of loved ones and friends gathering, crying, screaming. Survivors recounting the noise, the running, the hiding.
3. We start to learn about the heroes, both living and deceased. They pushed others out of the way, shielded them with their own bodies, ran out the back, held the doors open.
4. Sometime later, a graying, grim President stands behind a podium and speaks. “Our thoughts and prayers are with the families; I’ve had to do this about Aurora, Newtown, California…” so on, and so forth.
5. The media frenzy begins: terrorism? Mental illness? Gun control?
6. We begin seeing pictures of the victims, gentle music playing in the background. There’s a moment of silence, or two depending. Bells ring, sniffles and tears echo through churches, government buildings.
7. The second media frenzy begins. Who was he working with? Does he practice Islam? Why are they trying to take our guns?
8. We stop remembering the names and the faces, while their families and friends never forget. We’re reminded for the next two years, and then it all fades away.
There’s no resolution, no right answer, no action taken. We begin to move on until the next one happens, and we start from number 1.