In my Heaven
There will be no guns.
No more angry or lonely or off their rocker
boys or men with guns (and why
is it always boys and men?)
wearing trench coats or T-shirts
emblazoned with rage,
who turn an otherwise ordinary, innocent
day — into killing fields.
No more breaking news breaking our hearts.
No lock down drills, students learning
to drop to the floor, out of the line of vision.
No bump stocks. No more AK 5’s, 47’s. No need
for women to open their purses before they enter
the play, the movie, the concert. And no need
to fear windows that offer vantage points
for taking aim. In my heaven there will be
no one more interested in selling guns
than saving lives. No need for politicians
who court them. No — in my heaven
we’ll melt down, remold our overkill
of guns, turn them into plowshares
that till soil, plant seeds
of hope and mercy.