The Sunday Whirl gave us words that appear in bold. All I could think of was parents scouring the Norwegian countryside in search of their children.
Also posted at Poets United, my home away from home. Peace, Amy
(In Memory of Victims and Honor of Survivors of the Massacre in Norway)
How does a young man’s mind twist this
marvel of humankind
into reprehensible ideologies?
Not in the blink of an IPod spewing neo-Nazi music.
More likely, scattered, parentally unsupervised viewings
of YouTube videos, which cast people into castes:
Good and Evil.
It clouds his judgment…
and soon the blast of a bomb and
whirr of bullets rain down on Norway.
Desperate residents search for the living,
but first, they must scan the dead.
Americans pull their curtains closed
and say it can’t happen here.
But it already has:
Racial violence, rendered legal by racist politicians.
Hatred of immigrants, shots flying at the southern border.
Brutalized or murdered gays, lesbians, transgender people,
some hanging from trees, some trailing from bumpers of trucks.
Timothy McVeigh, the coward who chose death over apology.
Young minds raised in racist, ignorant homes.
It’s here, not just in Norway or the Middle East.
Can’t gild this fetid ditch lily:
Face the shame of homegrown terror.
© 2011 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil