Fifty Down

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The rain fell more gently in the afternoon than the early morning downpour.  I drank black coffee with peanut buttered toast and listened to the continuing news reports on the massacre in Orlando, Florida, perpetrated by another sick individual radicalized by extremists in the Middle East.  The devastating horror left me feeling sad and empty.

I wrote into FaceBook:

Fifty fellow creatures

mindlessly mowed into oblivion,

never to attain genetic potential.

 Fifty sets of parents, friends, loved ones

left weeping in the void…

Three of my local writing friends applauded my thoughts and the wives of two cousins and one remaining uncle gave my words a like.  No response at all from the wider group of Texas based poetry community nor others in my list of friends and relatives.

Politicians use such an event as a platform upon which to beat the drum of their interests.  One thought is to make it harder for known sympathizers of terrorist groups to buy guns in this country.  Why hasn’t that been done years ago?  How is it that someone who either has a criminal record, or has flags raised repeatedly over his mental stability is easily able to obtain guns?

I’m not opposed to average people owning guns and learning how to use them, and then storing them in locked cabinets out of the reach of children.  I’m also not the tiniest bit interested in having big brother looking over the shoulders of every citizen.  However, the price of not being more vigilant about just who is buying guns, just keeps growing.

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