A single shot ringing down the halls,
To mark the moment when there was an end
To life before, and something new begins,
It’s something ugly, twisted out of shape,
But new can’t always mean it’s clean or ‘nice’
Or any other name that’s pleasant to the ear.
Sometimes new is violent, a warning shot
That whistles through the stagnant air
And pierces flesh too young to die,
It’s ugly just like you and I.
I’m reading a book about Columbine High School at the moment and it’s fascinating in that way that humans seem to find the grotesque and violent so very interesting.
I was about fourteen when the shooting happened so I would have been around the same age as the younger students that were in that school. I think that similarity makes the whole thing seem so much more real to me, and even though I’m in the UK, I still feel sick to the stomach thinking ‘what if?’ when I watch the footage and read the accounts.
One thing that really strikes me about the stories that come out of tragedies like this, is that uncertainty about life and when it will end. We are awfully fragile beings and it only takes a mistake or plain bad luck to have today being your last.
I was watching an account by one students who said that he was driving into school with his sister and they were having an argument. He slammed the door as he got out, not realising that it would be the last time he ever saw her alive.
The fact that he was recounting that twenty years later shows that it’s still something that eats him up and I can’t imagine the pain he must feel every single day of his life. He wasn’t to know, but then none of us know. Reading these accounts has made me very mindful that I shouldn’t go to bed angry and I should always tell Noah and my dad that I love them. Make sure you tell your people the same thing.