Shell

Six and a half years ago, my sisters were murdered in a mass shooting at my church.

There, I said it. The thing that makes me “that girl.” The thing that I’ve said over and over out loud to the point where it almost has no meaning.

And yet… Even though I have written about this topic before, I have never been able to poetically express it.

What is significant is that I can write words all day long. I learned well how to report the facts. But the emotion is hard for me to display honestly. The feelings of what happened that day so often stay stuck inside of my heart. I hide them in a black box and only bring them out for certain people to see. By certain people I mean my therapist, and that’s really about it.

There is something different when you perform something, versus just writing it. This poem is one I’ve been trying to write since December 9, 2007. It finally expresses, perfectly, the emotion I feel about that day.

Today I’m going to stop being the news reporter. Instead, I will be who I really am – the one it happened to. Today, I’m letting you in.

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