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The First

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I had heard it
the first gunshot
the sound
it rang
through one ear, and out the other
but never to forget the first gunshot,
I had heard it.

I had heard it
the first scream
the shriek
it slipped, like slightly falling in the shower
my heart, had just ran a marathon
my ears, had just died
my hope, had just left
the first scream,
I had heard it.

I had heard it
the first knock
then the second
then the third
then the fourth
fifth
silence.
again, five loud bangs
unlike the shouts, the guns, this was horrifying
someone is out there
someone wants us
trembling in fear, as a mother would when her small child has been lost
lost. That is where we are now.
Lost.
The first knock,
I had heard it.

I had seen it,
the first look
the fear
the sadness
the missing fire of excitement.
Gone.
The look,
I watched it go
From her soul, her eyes, then her heart
I, too, felt it all leve
not to be seen
nor heard
not to be felt
nor shared
the last look,
I had seen it.

I had heard them
the first words
thank you
filling my ears
completing my life
bringing joy
fixing anger
making fear,
disappear
“is this the end?”
The last words,
I had heard them

“No, dear, this is not the-”




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