I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
–Edna St. Vincent Millay
I was struck by the recent* school shooting to create an archive of occasional poems because the occasion of unfathomable collective grief is as predictable an event these days as any national holiday. I wanted to write poetry about the portions of the event that stuck with me. The shards that glitter in my mind’s eye like a burst Christmas bulb: sharp, terrible but beautiful and ultimately useless. But no poetry came to me. Or no me came to it. The hows of our nonarrival are irrelevant.
*I say “recent” because latest can never be accurate. Keeping up with school shootings requires an IV feed of local and national news.
Failing as a poet, I dipped into my skills as an editor and began piecing together “poems of healing” from various sources and eras.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the graveGently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.–Edna St. Vincent Millay