At the moment, I am still too much in awe to post many original thoughts about today’s horrific shootings at VTU. At these times I tend to retreat within my own thoughts, as I said in a earlier post, there’s not much you can say or do at these times to elaborate upon events such as these, which are so unexpected, and terrible they define our ability to express. So, I will let you share with me, my melancholy as I try to make sense of the senseles.
After all the jacks are in their boxes
and the clowns have all gone to bed
You can hear happiness staggering on downstreet
footprints dressed in red
and the wind whispers MARY
At the current time all that any who are watching this can do is wonder will anyone else be listed among the casualties. There will be much time later, and of course many are already asking the questions why so many things went wrong after the initial tragic events at 715 this morning. These events will be played out for the next week or so and talked about, blame given and judgement meted out. The whispers which are now spoken will become screams, and indeed many are screaming already. However, they will turn back into whispers addressed to God, a friend, or anyone who would be able to offer comfort and answer the question that will never be satisfactorily answerd. Do you hear the screamed whisper of “Why”?
A broom is drearily sweeping
up the broken pieces of yesterdays life
Somewhere a queen is weeping
Somewhere a king has no wife
And the wind, it cries MARY
Nothing of course will ever be the same for this university, nor for any of the students that were there today. Young lives will be altered, and maybe some few will be able to find purpose or meaning from today which will give them focus in their life. However, all that comes to mind at the moment, as I sit and try to comprehend the horror of the day for the students, the staff, the faculty, and yes, the family of the perpertrator, as they see their former life, so tidy and organized brought to a shambles in an instant. The sheer emotion of when the families of these poor students heard the first fuzzy confuzed details of the events, and then the moment when their world ended. How do you offer comfort, understanding to one who has lost a child by a meaningless and random act of violence? An adult that loses a spouse is widowed; a child that loses a parent is orphaned. Yet, there are no words to describe parents whose children have died. Is it because that concept is just too awful to put into words? All that one can do is like the wind, cry in shared agony.
The traffic lights they turn blue tomorrow
and shine their emptiness down on my bed
The tiny island sails downstream
’cause the life they lived is, is dead
And the wind screams MARY
The problem is for these families, and those who survived and were there, nothing will ever be the same… Ever Again. What was normal will be replaced by an abnormal sense of reality, and the moments of sheer terror, fear, and the guilt of being a survivor when so many were in such a cruel random way had their existence ended. A life once centered on the successful completion of a school year, and for many of dreams of a future based on accomplishment, has sailed off, and died. At times we are reminded of the beauty of life by the moments of purely awful events, which make us collectively complain and rage at the lack of control that we as individuals have over the tyranny of events. Events which are rude and unplanned interruptions of a life once lived. Life is so arbitrary; It is enough to make one scream.
Will the wind ever remember
the names it has blown in the past
and with its crutch, its old age, and its wisdom
it whispers “no, this WILL be the last”
And the wind, cries MARY
Too many shootings, too many events, too many guns in the hands of people who just didn’t need them, too many reminders that this is a world that has gone out of control. Does anyone remember the names of shooters, unless they kill a President or a legend? Does anyone remember the names of those killed by Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, by Brenda Ann Spencer, by Charles Whitman? Did any remember the names that were just posted, probably a few knew all the names, more new some of the names, but most remembered none of the names of the Columbine, Grover Cleveland Elementary, and Texas Tower shooter, and the unnamed shooter has now added Virginia Tech to that sad list of names that wind no longer remembers and all that is now left are ghosts that cry out to be remembered.
But in a week, this will have all been blown over, replaced, and forgotten. By most of us, by society, by all but the families and the victims. The only echoing of their cries will be in the wind, but when the hell did that account for anything.