AN ATTEMPT AT AN EXPLANATION

   by Leslie Clark

           
Another story on the national news
slaps our consciences with horror.
Two lost lives, scores of others
pierced by bullets from a weapon of war
borne by one who should be too young
even to be acquainted
with the terrible finality of the destruction
he has assigned himself to deliver.  

We ask, Why? What is happening?
How did our schools
become places for wholesale slaughter?
When did our young become executioners?
What would make a skinny, freckled child  
go to a place where kids are clustered
like bunches of raspberries,
send projectiles into their midst and watch
calmly as the scarlet juices flow.

In a country where the Senate is owned
and operated by the NRA,
bad guys are gunned down on a cop show at 8
and appear on The Tonight Show at 11,
video games feature shoot outs and karate kills,
what could lead a child to believe
that deadly force has consequences?

When pointless teenage rage uncoils in his belly
pushes its way in scarlet fury to his head,
and something, something, has to happen.
In earlier days he might have
run a mile, punched a bag, thrown
pillows across the room, screamed the anger out.
But now he goes to Daddy’s safe,
lifts that cold metal, feels it solid, deadly,
feels the push of power
and employs it to do its intended job.
Perhaps, with no comprehension, 
that those who fall have fallen forever.
That one moment will tick in endless time
through his life and so many others.
That it never can be taken back.