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by Rachel Cekorich
3-9-94
Dawn breaks, the first rays of the sun shine upon
the infant rose.
This creation develops in full glory, each petal
glistening with dewy perfection.
The day wears on, it dances with the wind
and sings praises along with the oak.
Afternoon blows in, the rose is plucked, night fall
never to be seen.
Dawn breaks, the first rays of sun shine
upon the infant child.
This creation develops in full glory, each limb
gleaming with life's perfection.
The day wears on, the child dances with the wind
and sings praises with the oak.
Afternoon blows in, the child is plucked,
night fall never to be seen.
Written in memory of Moukda Chounlamany, who died March 8, 1994: "I wrote this because I was thinking about how so many young people lose their lives. On March 8, 1994, Moukda Chounlamany died. I didn't know him very well, nor was I close to him, but tragedy hits anyone hard. Last year Alex Lopez also died. These two incidents have different effects on different people. I have two brothers. I worry about them because they have no self-control. But many innocent bystanders are killed too. Overwhelming numbers of young people have died and many more will die until this insanity stops."