It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, day 3 of NaPoWriMo

For the children of the Newtown Massacre 

In darkness this dense,

light never finds an escape.

There is no sense or comprehension:

it is Absolute Zero of the soul.

There is no bullet more devastating

than the horror that steals

your child.

The girl who wanted

to be an angel for Christmas

has taken the stage in heaven’s pageant

before her baby teeth fell.

His wide smile just learned to

sound out words, those small feet

lived for dancing.

These tiny starfish hands

just felt the baby kick

right there in mommy’s tummy!

Where was God

among death’s obscene debris?

I want to believe but God

remains silent.

Our children are bleeding

rivers of roses

for your gun rights.

They were flower buds

now resting in the arms of the saints.

Mr. Rogers, are you welcoming

20 new neighbors?

He smiles, holy and deep, then

hangs his red cardigan

by the gate, greeting each child

wearing the blood of

another.

"It’s a beautiful day in the

neighborhood, little lambs.

Won't you be my neighbor?"

Meanwhile, back home

the time and temperature

are stuck at Absolute Zero, BANG!

again, again.

J. Pratt-Walter, (c) 2019