Out of My Hand
OUT OF MY HAND
a slam poem on gun violence
Pulling the trigger – a split second affair.
Just like that, they went cold,
But he was still there.
Is it that easy, the transit from being to nothing?
One shot. One bullet. One gun.
The first time One seemed far more superior than 34. Or 23. Or 19.
For how can age cast a moment worth of relevance
when life can thus be cast upon without permission?
Just like that, the years spent tirelessly working shifts to pay rent seemed
Just like that, the long nights fighting after a misunderstanding became more
And now when that one second seems much more powerful than the
630,720,000 seconds of life before,
It’s not fair.
The right to live, the right for life cannot be swept aside.
And while accidents do occur,
And insane outbursts do prevail,
It is simply not fair to rely
Solely on the good in people,
And hence, do nothing.
People say that it’s out of their hands;
That it’s not in their hands to prevent such a tragedy
Well it was in his.
The gun was in his hands.
People say that somethings just happen,
That it’s up to destiny or fate,
You don’t choose the time you were born.
You don’t choose your family or your race
And you don’t choose your death;
But he did. He chose.
He chose something that wasn’t his choice to choose.
Something that no one should be able to decide,
He chose their death.
A fire can’t be put out after coal manifests into embers.
But truth is, the fire might have ceased to have existed without the spark