A voice I heard said a number this morning.
A tragic laundry list of inevitability,
of injured,
of dead,
of statistical truths.
A cup of
black bitter numbers at my breakfast table.
Numbers tell stories.
The numbers of lies,
of words of hate,
of speeches that divide and of weapons that kill.
Numbers, like digits on our country’s trembling hands,
broken, maimed, shattered hands covered in blood.
The numbers of lifeless piles of flesh
left behind in pools of unfinished lives,
bones heavy on a dance floor of senseless acts.
The number of blood filled bars,
the number of blood filled concerts,
the number of blood filled stores,
the number of blood filled synagogues,
the number of blood filled churches,
the number of blood filled theaters,
the number of high schools,
and the number of elementary schools.
The numbers of tragedies
shoot deep holes into
a belief that anything
can be done to stop the endless flow of pain.
Numb, speechless, a country is waiting for the next numbers.
393,000,000+ million guns in America
12,477 deaths to gun violence this year (2018)
953 hate groups in the U.S.
307 mass shooting in America this year (2018)
20 veterans complete suicide everyday
12 is the number today (Borderline Grill Thousand Oaks, CA-Nov 7, 2018)
