Today, I am made of molten salt and bitter ashes, crumbling where a woman’s body used to be.
Today, I am a monster made of screams, and I fill the sound between heartbeats and deathbeats and drumbeats toward our execution.
Today, and yesterday, and tomorrow, I’ll be a ruin– a monument to the violence that razes us, as it raises us to lay our bodies on the altar of male hatred, to be smashed by male hammers, and held by male chains.
Today, I am the smoke of despair, the leftovers of a burning pyre, rising on its journey into nothingness.
And we will forget ourselves, and each other.
And our sons will know only that we went, smiling, to save them from our pain.
© Columbine 2018