No Longer

He lost his wife and his son too soon

Shooting after shooting had plagued his life, leaving him desperate

He said to me, “This can go on no longer”

No longer

I sat in the padded desk chair in the Senator’s office

In my brand new pantsuit that my mom had purchased for me

Lingering on his every word, I said to myself

No longer

Not another day would I let aimless gunfire break families apart 

Like a wine glass across the kitchen floor

Never again would I sit down with a father, a husband, a friend

Broken by tragedy and begging for change, real change

No longer could I be a child in this world

Being absent minded about what really goes on in my very own country

The American flag didn’t represent the 4th of July anymore

And the sound of fireworks now rung like gunshots

I couldn’t wake up early on Christmas morning anymore

Without thinking about him, waking up haunted and alone

No longer was I a child

But every inch of my being ignited during that one conversation

Without moving a muscle, I became my adult self

Passionate and determined for the same change that stripped me of my innocence

All it took was one day at the State House

One conversation

One man

To reveal the activist within me and say

No longer