The Poetic Political
Fumings of a Feisty Feminist
Making waves of change, one poem at a time.
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17 bullets to the heart
Each one a young life taken More guns don’t fix the problem The politicians are mistaken. How many more must die? How many more must suffer? When loving thoughts and prayers Are all you have to offer. These senseless killings persist While you sit idly by “The Constitution says…" “Our hands are tied….” As you pocket the NRA’s money. The dust has cleared. We see you now. We’ve come to know the truth. Your silence is for sale As you neglect our youth. No longer will we suffer We won’t be torn apart. America’s soul has taken 17 bullets to the heart. I wrote this poem after reading an interview with one of the survivors of the MSD high school shooting in which he says, “The community just took 17 bullets to the heart.” That phrase struck me. https://www.npr.org/2018/02/16/586616026/students-who-survived-florida-shooting-want-politicians-to-know-theyre-angry
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Standing in our classroom
We hear it… POP! POP! POP! Confused at first, But we quickly realize. My heart pounds frantically. I think of my family. I think of my classmates. My teacher tries to save us. POP! Why is this happening? Who is doing this? Make it stop! Make it stop! Where do I go? What should I do? Now I hear the screams. The sounds are overwhelming. Tears stream down my face As I wonder if I’ll be next. Make it stop! Make it stop! Under my desk is too small I just don’t fit. I find a table But there’s no hiding ….from the barrage of bullets Quivering cries. Scared and startled screams. POP! POP! POP! Make it stop! Make it stop! We’re only kids. This isn’t how it should end. Why? Why? Why? Please stop! Please stop! POP! POP! POP! Then silence… As our politicians send their prayers. I wrote this poem after the Marjory Stoneman Douglas shooting that killed 17 high school students. I tried to put myself in their shoes in an attempt to understand the immense emotions the students must've felt. Knowing we could've tried to prevent this and the realization that this won't be the last leaves me sick to my stomach and feeling helpless. For now, I will write...and vote for change. |
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Poetry by: AsherahAlthough she was selectively edited out of the Bible two thousand years ago, she raises her voice for women today in hopes of a better tomorrow, as she makes waves of change, one poem at a time. Archives
May 2020
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