These barbaric raids of aphotic-sick clouds tar by poison a horror with no boundary, appearing anywhere, pervasive as weather, assailing repeatedly without warning, leaving a vast pool of vulnerability and no shelter. 2 a.m. last call was happening everywhere.
Again, propelled out of my own smaller obsessions and shocked into perspective: to cradle firmly and unshakably hold with unwavering gratitude the blessings I have; once again, I trip over attempts to convey the magnitude of grief felt en masse today; to send out words with my own surge of sympathy for Orlando and our LGBT community.
The month of June is not immune to bigotry nor bereft of victory and celebration — but to admit this pernicious unexpected marriage of terror and discrimination is to admit an unspeakably evil mutation targeted toward gays and queers alike.
Gay pride should not contain this history, our shoulders are swollen enough from an extensive record of senseless violence. Metastatic hate, deep regret, and needless pain, should not stain the rainbow we’ve unfurled and should not discolor the courage we’ve earned. It takes more than radical fire for us to be burned.
But my heart bleeds fierce sympathy for those engulfed by forced agony and beats in tenderness for those lost, echoing the innocent sound of their pulse. Their tragedy has been always our tragedy and for this, their night shall not be forgot.
Robert S. Prattico is a legal assistant and poet living in Holyoke. He can be contacted at robbyprattico@gmail.com.
