mightier than the gun

Reads: 96  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


In memory of every victim of every school shooting in the United States and their families. Originally performed as a spoken word piece with a collaborative dance performance.

Submitted: July 08, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 08, 2018

A A A

A A A


Since 1999 columbine
about a hundred 87,000 students were resigned
to an undesired anxiety, a living hell

where minutes trickled and dragged, bullets ripped to  through the fickle fabric of time ending the lives of 122 in a place they never conceived they could die
imagine, their second hands stopped on the clock

second hand shock as time stills to remind us
that silence and blindness can kill as many as an assault rifle


This culture of violence is rooted in silence, and those who find asylum in the quiet have grown deaf to the cries of those who should have been saved
instead 122 scholars who won’t ever teach or graduate watch our idleness from their grave.
and we, the students, take it day by day
navigating each moment in hopes it won’t be our last
we take it day by day
trying not to take each one for granted but hey, sometimes,
it sure feels like they are

 

Meanwhile the grey-haired politicians sit safe behind their brazen opinions

call us out for calling them out calling out that we are entitled, emotional

and too naive to seize the bleak future we fear to call our own

so we call for change
 

Call us what you may

a one way street, a people of conformity, individuality obsolete

but we call ourselves the change

the full circle revolution of a revolution reincarnated

another coming of age bathed in rage

neglecting the broken crackly speech of puberty we know like it was yesterday

our young voice, reasonable and impatient, reverberates

 

To those who think our generation is generated by voluntary sedation
that we are enslaved by the technological creations of those before us

porous and shallow and never satiated by the instant gratification of

a double tap

the crass manifestation of virtual insecurity

I ask you to take a step back

and ask who were the ones who placed the smartphones in these infants’ hands

who branded us the iGeneration? Who still calls us millennials even though

millennials only got the the smartphones first

while their successors have been well-versed with the digital since birth
 

In third grade I was told the pen was mightier than the sword

yet i get a creeping feeling that even ink would retreat from an AR-15


But the pen’s undergone evolution too to bring about a generation saturated in methods of mass communication armed for a bulletless battle child soldiers lined shoulder to shoulder


Angry.

Alive.

 

Hearts beating.

seething at the pride of the good chunk of adults who still believe the bereaved brought their deaths upon themselves
still believe that all gen z can do is grieve but can’t conceive the grave implications of a bullet

 

We ask you to think again.

We feel the gravity and plead it doesnt pull us six feet deep.

We feel the gravity.

 

We are the inertia innervating our own kinetic energy

persisting until the pulses in our chests aren’t impossible to protect

we resist, until we can be sure that we aren’t next.

 


© Copyright 2019 Maya Tantuwaya. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: