Thank you to Laura Viau for this poem. This is Laura’s first appearance in our magazine. It has been 6 years and a few days, as of this publication, since 49 people were murdered at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando.
Every time the day approaches
There is some part of me that knows
Way before my brain catches up
To the calendar
Every time the parades start
I smile and pull out my rainbow stuff
And it knows
Every time another city
Every time another school
Every time another family
Every time
It Pulses with the unwanted knowing
And every time that part of me that knows makes itself known
I remember the number – 49
And I can never remember numbers
But I do
Every time
And I remember the texts
And the faces
And the relief and the sorrow
There were 49
They weren’t mine
But they were
And they are
Every time
Every Damned Time
Laura Viau
Laura is a word nerd, bear collector, musician, movie buff and Whovian who also happens to be called to ministry. She mostly writes sermons but plays with poetry and storytelling, too. She blogs way too infrequently these days at The Viau From Here.