We shall all be free some day.
—GUY AND CANDY CARAWAN
When I was able to see beauty in a world
littered with scars
when I discovered stores of memories
that a bullet couldn’t quit
when I watched a son grow into his father’s face,
his laugh, his walk
I saw how faith could be restored.
And was finally able to imagine
that before he fell in love with guns
before he lost his mother
and his childhood
before he needed a reason to hate
to feel threatened
to push back against imaginary walls
collapsing in on him
like August heat and no fan
I imagine before all that, little Byron was good.
He was clean. He was innocent.
And I finally understood
that trouble don’t last always.