Orlando Massacre

Madame Justice cries
as fresh blood flows in the streets
painting them all red.
Her eyes look up to heaven
begging for a wind of change.

Ronovan’s Haiku (tanka) Prompt #101 (fresh & wind)

Let’s Dance

The crystal shattered
as Bowie took his last breath
and the dance stopped.
Do play his music again.
I will put on my red shoes.

Ronovan’s Haiku Prompt Challenge #79

I hate shrinks

I wish they would stop talking about closure. There is no such thing as closure.

Closure is a myth.

It lives in the criminal justice system when murder victim family members are told by the prosecution that they need closure before they can move on with their lives.

And closure will come with the execution of their loved one’s murderer. Because it will be over when the killer pays for his heinous deeds with his life, the ultimate price for his actions. That will affect the change needed. It will lift the clouds.

It won’t. Trust me.

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t see her. Her chair is empty but I see her. How she sits at the front of the seat never leaning back. Her vanity is clean but empty. I see her sitting there putting on her make up before we go out. I can still smell her perfume. I miss her every holiday, every vacation, every passing of a birthday and anniversary. If I close my eyes she walks next to me. Breaths in my rhythm. But when I try to grab her hand…

The execution didn’t change anything. IF anything the execution added another nightmare to my already impressive arsenal.

Now I see him on the gurney with needles.

Now when I think of her I see him too.

That was not the case before. Before I had him locked away  in a separate prison that my memory build just for him. He was in there behind a thick stone wall never to be seen, touched, or spoken to by mankind. But now he is out there.

Now I see him.

I hear his last words and I know the smell of the witness room.

Closure, it is a myth. And all shrinks should be ashamed of using the word.