Jolynn Free
I often feel like
a deer in the headlights.
No, more like that squirrel
who darts into the street
then stops halfway to
consider his plight.
I never know which
action he will choose:
continue, return,
or wait to see what
me and my 3,000
pound car will do next.
I’d be as crushed to
hit him as that deer
who ran into my
car on the dark road
and left a patch of
hide on my door trim.
I didn’t stop to
see the damage done
but was so shook I
bought grocery store wine
in the next town and
drank it from the bottle.
So when a young man
with a heart full of
hate frustration fear
shot nineteen children
and their teachers what
response was left to me?
Pray with Bishop Curry
send money to Gun Sense
write my senators
shake my fist at the
NRA’s lobby
or maybe simply this:
Sit. And be moved by
the grief of those families
and the deep wound in
that young man we failed
and the one in Buffalo
and know I am them
as capable of
harming others as
any of those in
the headlines, though more
subtly or
even unawares.
And when humility
has brought me low and
I’m convinced of my
culpability
then the gracious one
redeems me with love
and reminds me how
little is up to me
how small my boat and
great the sea and how
the butterfly’s wing
may turn the tide yet.
For just when he was
at his greediest
setting in motion
an industry we
still regret, J P
Morgan saved the whales.
