Alone in his room, alone in his mind
No one to share, no one to care
Guns at the ready, loaded and locked
Sights cleaned and polished, mounted and focused
Bags crumpled and empty, his hiding completed
Ammo in clips, stocks oiled and burnished
His mind was empty, his feelings aside
The shooter takes aim and squeezes the trigger.
Where was his soul, who knew his fate?
Who will miss him and then wonder why
Fate brought him this far and left him to die,
A soul which flies and dashes to pieces?
His life left in ashes adrift in the wind,
No honor left here, no story to tell.
Fifty-nine souls freed from their hosts
All came for music to brighten their lives.
They hoped for a story to carry back home
Of songs which they liked and maybe they loved.
Their troubles forgotten at least for the time,
No fears for the future, no time for that now,
The music consumed them and lifted their souls
A flash in the sky and then there was silence.
Their souls were enchanted and ready to fly.
Not ready to leave, not really their choice,
Their time had arrived with no warning in sight
Their memory stays, their future cut short,
Their stories now passed to those they loved best
Before they expected, it came time to rest.
Five twenty-eight, the number of those
Who were touched by a bullet but not left ice cold.
An instant of fear, but no time to wonder
If next they would live or cease to exist.
The music cut short, panic ensued
Everyone running, ducking for cover.
Would they be among those with stories to tell
Or would they be silenced and murdered as well.
Their souls remained, their lives left in tatters
So close to death but spared for a while
Not this time but maybe not too far ahead
A chance for another, a more thoughtful life.
The stories now theirs, they speak in the stead
Of those whom they left and whose lives they now led.