I never wrote a poem for Orlando. I never wrote a poem for Pulse.
I spent days wanting to,
trying to string words from my mind like stringing yarn.
When my mother said nothing
about the loss of life that week,
my blood fell on the page
to make up for unconjured words. And maybe i thought
that it was enough of a tribute.
Even now, writing something wouldn't be enough. Memory is insataiable.
But I am tired of letting myself be shocked into silence.
YOU ARE READING
This Is Where You Learn to Move On
PoetryThe random thoughs, the missing pieces of puzzles that I will never click together. Bits and pieces that won't end up in a manuscript. Highest Ranking: 16 in Poetry cover credits to the outstanding @eccentriphilia
