The death toll is 45 on a Monday morning.
Men, women, children– someone’s baby who isn’t coming home again.
Did you tell him you love him before he went out that door?
Mami, le diste la bendicion?
It’s not a terrorist attack or natural disaster, it’s just another month gone by in Chicago.
These are the things you read when scrolling through pictures of puppies and reports about winning teams.
Something must be done!
Hot air and empty promises.
Men in suits telling me how we should live,
But bullets speak louder than words.
Why are we killing each other?
Will I ever know the desperation that leads me to pull a gun on my neighbor?
The anger?
The rage?
Don’t speak to me about the problem with gun violence when you have no solution.
Speak to me with opportunity and art and beauty.
Speak to me with options instead of liquor stores on every corner.
Speak to me with playgrounds for our children instead of empty lots and chain link fences.
Until then don’t talk to me about a problem like I’m not drowning in the tears of broken mothers.
The Secret Life of Pandas 
Devastating.
I know. It’s usually one of the first things I read on a Monday morning. The weekend count. Today it was April’s
Well said, Jenn.
This is so powerful, Jenn…. Wow. It is. And painful. I held my breath while reading. I remember my brother mentioning Chicago and these numbers one day. I thought of you. I did. And I thought of my son taking a trip there one year (remember I told you) and he loved it. Our world needs peace. I mean holy h$11… For real. We need peace.
You need to submit this. Check with Rattle poetry.
❤ thank you Jane.
❤