This Haiku was originally published by Yahoo! Contributor Network in August of 2011. 

Desert summer heat 
crushes the will of its prey, 
like a snake--no mercy.

Joyous Christmas lights red and 

green blur to  squad car red and 

blue.


Redwashed bloody weeps, 

Oh no, please God, it can’t be 

true! 

Sirens scream, broken dreams.

Twenty-seven down.

It is twenty-seven more.

But who’s keeping score?

When bullets fly, and our babies die, it hurts just a little more.

Bullets’ deeds can’t be undone once unleashed from the Bushmaster’s gun.

Don’t believe me?  I am not the only one. Ask a mother from Newtown.

   

She didn’t make a body, 

This is her baby,

She pours her life into her son

Stays up late at night worrying he’s the next one

To have it end with a gun.

It’s just another one.

Precious red pool split on the white driven snow.

You don’t know, and you don’t care.

There’s no TV coverage here.

No fancy concert, cause it’s nothin’ special,

This is every day murder.

This is the NRA’s bread and butter.

America ran out of tears for the Chicago mother.