*

Poet John E. Howard writes: “I was born and raised in Maine, going on 6 years living in Somerville, a Professional Counselor and Coach by training, a mentor, husband and teacher. Poetry, among other things, can be a great balancer in a world often bent on distraction or self-destruction.”

Poet John E. Howard.

Unspoken

Broken bodies hit the ground

Blood around, crying, tears- pop, pop! Pop!

Bodies lined up on the floor,

Gunman keeping score, runaway malice

This is what hate looks like,

Smiling lovers gunned down in the early morning

Dance floors stopped by bullets flying

Young, Latino, gay, friends dying.

Yield to the American terrorist,

That maven of social media,

Consuming culture, motivated by his selfie-15 minutes

Of infamy-poser infidel, steady aim, unhinged,

No gain.

Tragedy breeds solidarity, leads to women

Standing shirtless to stop the bleeding, breeds

Politicians sparring

Over the meaning of the massacre, gun laws,

No pause.

Busted bodies on the ground, spirits unleashed,

Normally quiet, filling the air with sound-

Love more dormant in the city of Orlando now

On parade, awkwardly limping, wounded

Yet impassioned, nobody laughing.

Long love propping up a grieving mother,

Son lost with his lover, and the stories roll on

One after another- Angel, Juan, Chris, Luis, Stanley,

Edward, Eric, Kimberly, Akrya, Alejandro, Anthony,

And Mercedez- among many others, brothers, sisters,

Amigos, lovers.

Spirits unbroken, messy, necessary love, humbling

Unknown token, nothing but his name unspoken.

— John E. Howard