the ignorance that will kill us all

this isn't a poem, this is the worst thing thats ever happened to me.



Picture him.
Picture his hair and his torn black skinny jeans and the way he tilts his head back when he laughs.
Picture the rumors you've heard about him.
Remember how he doesn't want to be here and think about those times you've heard him swear and seen him ask questions.
Remember that girl who told you she had sex with him.
Think about the sharp-as-knives words that you've used to label his skin.
You've passed your judgements and they have not gone unnoticed.

Now see him.
See him with his knees pressed into the mud with his arms folded and his eyes squeezed tight. Its hard to tell which is pouring faster the rain or his tears while he is begging to feel something.
His heart is so heavy its sunk to the soles of his shoes which feel like the only soul he has.

You are only making it worse.

Picture her.
Picture her face that's always smiling and the freckles dotting her fingers and her hyperextended knees.
Remember her as seminary class president, remember what you know about her.
Think how she hasn't been to church since January.
Think about how she is resilient and strong and nothing bothers her. She is never sad or angry.
Its effortless for her.

Now see her.
December 14th with her knees on the hardwood floor for hours pleading with someone she knows isn't there. See her picking herself up off the floor and wiping the tear tracks off her cheeks to make it to first period the next day.
See her in January at the foot of her mothers hospital bed at 12:30 in the morning. See her mother writhing in agony and watch her escape to the bathroom to cry and beg for there to be something more. something for her mom.
Watch her brush it off at school in the morning. Watch her say she is okay.

both of them are being murdered by the same damn disease of ignorance plaguing society around them.

your whispers have carved out the word sin on their foreheads in scarlet letters, but sin is not the same for everyone and its not why they left.

no one rolled over and admitted defeat without putting up a fight.

we tried and we tried.

we fought harder than you can imagine and we got the answer we dreaded.






silence.






a silence so loud it makes you wonder.
i wonder if God ever thinks "I work at a god damn call center" when he hangs up on our desperate prayers.
at least that is what i hoped he did. not because i like being ignored but at least that would mean he was real.

if you still don't believe me, ask 3:00 am and tear stained shirt sleeves.
we fought.
we fought.
we fought.
we died.

and don't tell me that death is easy when i just showed you the claw marks on the inside of our coffins.