by July 5, 2015 3 comments

young boy with pellet gun
aiming at anything moving

a tree swallow fluttering near its
nest hole far up the birch tree

an innocent pulling of trigger
a dead-on kill
and then the swallow’s mate
out the nest hole and
shrieking her mourning
across the thinned air

flustered and uncertain
the boy carefully aims and
shoots again putting down
the mate

trudging home feeling life moving
backwards like lost footsteps
hoarding the shame of his
accumulated future all
at once.

editors note:

Let regrets over triggers pulled influence future pointing of the gun. Peace, first! – mh clay

Comments 3

  1. Harley White

    Yes, to the shame of it! This tugs at the heartstrings, as it should… even expressing the nuances and depth of the reaches of cause and effect… excellent poem! Thank you for writing it, Mark!

  2. Hem Raj Bastola

    I love this poem, hell of a trigger play like a toy. Hope the shame will expiate the sin that is done innocently. What i think is those guns should not be allowed to the kids in the american world. Let peace prevail in the heart with apology.

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