Black Shirts of Love: Sixteen Short Years

in memory of Melody Ross, 16 years old

Who says one person can't
make a difference?
When a stray bullet
cut Melody's life short,
a wave of students
wearing black shirts
in her memory
swept across the nation
reminding those who knew her
and those who didn't
how much her life meant
and what it represented

Melody and I are worlds
apart since she will never reach
old age and I look back
on my youth in high school
as a distant memory
when we never worried
about stray bullets
or our fellow students
having guns

We grew up with different
concerns because then,
as high school students
we wept for a president we
saw as our nation's hope
while her classmates
shed tears for a girl whose
potential remains untapped
for firearms are too easily
accessible

Reading the news story today
I wept for Melody's
family and friends who
understood as a result
of her death that life
does not have enough time
to spread love through
sixteen short years

Tearful Way

Awakening from her dream
she cries
knowing
that her tears spill
into all grief's stages
welcomed
as a way to help
its flow
to a place
where she meets
the One who can
soothe the ache
no one can see
or touch

Moon Ride

She was at my left shoulder
during most of the ride
whispering what I chose
not to believe
You're stronger than you know"
I looked at her

She winked
Yes,it's true

Then she disappeared
hiding in front of the bus
I settled in with my thoughts
and came into the station

Exiting the bus
there she was to greet me
shining over the station entrance

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