I choose to remember, Victoria

What a terrible, terrible thing,

we have witnessed,

the slaughter of children.

How the lobbyists of the NRA,


some ‘journalists’ can sleep at night,

I don’t know.

People scrimp and save,

they work like dogs,

they commute long hours,

to work,

so that their children,

can go to better schools,

can live in a safe bucolic town,


this happens…

Too many guns,

too much ‘glorification’ of these,

sick useless excuses for human beings.

Gun control helps,

the NRA and our Conservative governments,

will tell you no,

that ‘People kill people not guns’

I say people with guns,

kill people,


like they are characters on a computer screen,


Sure there are countries,

with gun controls,

with shootings,

it’s happened here,

in Canada,


it happened in Norway,


The thing is gun control,

isn’t the only solution,


it helps,

numbers point to that,


we need more mental health help,

we need to talk to each other,



this isn’t about sound bites,




it isn’t all about blaming,

the Internet and video games,

both can be extremely,

interesting, entertaining, educational.

It isn’t about building more prisons,

prisons don’t rehabilitate,

they breed harder criminals,


they house the poor and the disenfranchised.

We must forget the names of these killers,

we must remember the names of the victims,

we must change the way,

we ‘talk’ about this,


we must ‘talk’ about this,


with emotion,


with a mind to solving,

our problems.

We must talk to and with each other,

not ‘at’ each other,

we must have  goals, ideals and ambitions,


than being on television,

right now,

infamy and cowardice,

seem more important,

to many,

than bravery and achievement,

selflessness and sacrifice.

This ‘man’

joins for me,

a long list of people,

whose names,

should not be spoken.

Of this tragedy,

I remember that most of the victims,

were six and seven years olds,


the name I chose to remember is,

Victoria Soto,

a twenty-seven year old,

first grade teacher,


when she heard gunshots,

hid her students in cupboards and closets,


when he came to her door,

told him they were at the gym,

she died,

they lived,

she deserves to be remembered,

he doesn’t.

I realise that any thing said in the wake of such tragedy,

is too little and can smack of platitudinous,


we need to talk,

we need to work towards,

a better world,

a better future,

for ourselves,

for our kids.


Later girls,




Published by

Bookish Butch

I am a bookish butch in my very early fifties. I live in Montréal and always have. I used to run a small used bookstore. Reading keeps me sane. My latest jiggie is photography, book project in the works, living the dream

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