I don’t want to write about shootings anymore.
I don’t want to “Look for the helpers.” I don’t want to try to find some evidence of a higher power in the bloodstains. I don’t want to discuss the validity of sending thoughts and prayers in the wake of yet another shooting. I don’t want to turn to religious texts to find words of wisdom or comfort. I don’t want to mark another set of yartzeits. I don’t want to have to include the victims of gun violence in our prayers for healing. I don’t want our outrage to be misconstrued as “politicizing. “
I don’t want the names of people with loves, dreams, families, and ambitions to be lined up and listed as “Victims.” I don’t want to get into arguments where solutions are never actually considered. I don’t want to believe that we can only have circular arguments with no answers.
I don’t want gun violence to take one more life. I don’t want to write about shootings anymore. The dead can’t hear us and the living refuse to.
The living who are in power certainly seem unable to hear the desire for answers. Then again, the forces lobbying for as little restriction as possible are powerful. And America was born of violence and has been maintained through violence.