Monday, May 28, 2018

Rachel Lynn McGuire


Stephen Paddock was 64.
I can't help but wonder
How old will I be
when I finally snap?

No history of mental illness.
No religious affiliation.
Just a white millionaire
who chose mass homicide.

That feels like me.
The only evidence of
my violence is
a sea of strange poetry.

I confess this to my Lover.
He says, "Babe,
you're bigger than this.
You have so much love to give.

But it's ok if you can't
love with open hands today.
That just means today you need
to be loved with open hands."

My Lover is God for me,
and all this grace is what I need.
The wretch who takes a tragedy
and makes it all about Me. Me. Me.

My Lover doesn't fault me for this.
He just loves me. He just listens.
I let the grace wash away the crisis.
The gratitude helps me begin again.

Rachel reads "Not for Vegas":

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Rachel confesses: "The poem itself is a confession of my homicidal impulses. I fear my own capacity for violence. This poem is an honest description of my reaction to the October 1st, 2017 Las Vegas shooting."

RACHEL LYNN MCGUIRE lives in a small commune in Richmond, Virginia with her polyamorous family and their seven children. Her poetry has appeared in The Five-Two and Five 2 One Magazine.

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