Guilt hits with the first gunshot,

with the first scream.

No matter how many cotton

balls you shove in your ears,

they still ring with the sounds of death.

When you reach heaven, God

will explain it to you.

He will tell you why it had to happen,

why the bullet flew a certain way,

why it struck the heart directly,

leaving not even enough time

for the thought—

I might live.

__

He will trace the lines on your palms,

just as He did with His son

the first time He saw him.

And He will tell you—

it was never your fault.

You didn’t have to be here too.

You will close your eyes—

and always, you’ll be there.

You will open them—

and cry.