When are we going to do something about this?
We are supposed to be a nation founded on equality.
We are equally to blame for the death of these souls.
We are breeding a nation of killers –
maybe not as obvious as the ones holding the guns
but we’ve all signed a pending suicide note in each other’s blood.
We are a country of enablers.
We are a country that sends our children to die for peace in other nations
when we can’t even wash our blood-stained carpets.
We are a country that claims to be color-blind
when we’re really just shutting our eyes
and bathing in monochrome lust.
We are a country that has swept our bigotry under a poorly stitched rug.
You don’t solve a problem with a piece of paper.
You don’t solve an imbalanced equation by slashing the equal sign.
You don’t spray a mountain of trash with perfume and call it clean.
You don’t solve a problem by veiling it in niceties
standing on a foundation without integrity
and shrug at its collapse.
You solve problems by empowering people to take responsibility for their own lives.
This jobless, soulless, listless adult child was enabled to live a life unaccountable
by parents irresponsible
who shut blind eyes to a son
locked in his room
to numb shame,
he inherited from unguided parents,
the ones who gifted him a gun,
the same which took nine lives
and left survivors because he wanted his numbed pain known,
a cry for help unheard
by mommy and daddy through shut bedroom door.
This was a crisis waiting to happen.
It won’t be treated that way.
I doubt it will be treated at all.
Until we learn to honor our feelings,
own what is ours,
we’ll be chained together by a common bond,
hidden under the fabric of our fears.
Our government has represented us wholly –
do not blame them.
Blame the disease afflicting the families of our nation –
the one that locks shame in a cabinet –
hides alcoholics in fancy homes –
rapists and batterers behind “everything’s fine”
and cries itself to sleep at night
until it chokes on its tears
and hides those too.
Pick your poison –
It’s a free country –
The United States of Denial.
Time to burn the rug.