I ponder about life and death often. How there is a seamless timeline between the two, but we tend to measure it in life stages. Life is a whole, it is not parts of this and that. Your life is everything you have been, you are, and will be. The recent shootings have made me think about how the entire life that was created by you or for you (whatever you believe) is all over with a single bullet. After the recent mass shooting, I was overwhelmed with the idea of 17 lives being gone forever. Never to exist again - which inspired me to write this poem.

This is my life.

I have been born, I will grow, and I will become.

This is my life.

I have a mother, a father, siblings, pets, a home.

This is my life.

Barefoot, we play in the woods, attaching swings to old trees and racing our bikes down the street to the river.

This is my life.

The yellow school bus takes me to school, winding along the back roads, fresh morning air and excitement. I am ready to make friends and to learn all sorts of subjects.

This is my life.

We sit at the dinner table, talking about our day. My sisters and I are all starting to have different interests and we interrupt one another constantly, competing for attention. We bicker over who has to clear the table.

This is my life.

I am having a bad day, who is really there for me? I feel alone and a deep pain in my chest, hopelessly--I fail to realize this is common. It will pass and I will forget all about it. I cannot control the way the thunderous rain falls on the pavement, but I have silenced the stream of tears that race down my cheeks at night. Swollen lids mix with morning light, but I will be just fine.

This is my life.

I gaze at the stars to remind myself of how small I really am, when will they disappear? Off to college soon, a lot has changed in the years. I am reflective with a bittersweet nostalgia that fills up my head. Everything that I have ever known is passing without a glance my way. The battle between a fresh start and holding onto the comfortable has just begun. Everything great seems to be in the past, but here I was, being promised that for the future. I have come to an understanding it is only the present that gifts me with these memories. They hurt - go back, go back.

This is my life.

A heavy mist of news around us, layers upon layers, we are all experiencing different weathers. Nobody can navigate in the storm that sweeps away the innocent so violently. The water keeps getting higher. Alas, I am safe. We will march on as the cries engulf our every move. Isolation is no longer a friend, there is a force of unison. I can't see the stars anymore in the city. I think they are there and I am still small. I will grow and I will learn -- in class, I fear. Where do I hide? What do I do when it is my turn? Here I am, face to face with a single bullet. Threatening to take everything, I can't fight it. I see stars, I knew they were there.

Is this my life?