Hit Me With Your Best Shot - We Are Orlando
Hit Me with Your Best Shot - We are Orlando
A rainbow of all the droplets of color,
begins to run with a red that bleeds.
And from the sky it can mix any palette,
instead of parity and one of misdeeds.
The drinks are mixed in fun and joy,
as lanky men dance Hip Hop in form.
So young they live, despite brutal hate,
and also know, they're part of the norm.
The music peals, the voices double,
and laughter sings within their eyes.
Two women dance, a close hot Rumba,
they're young in age with spirits wise.
A bartender zips out the orders of shots,
for two Hot Damns and one Captain Coke.
Bring on five more of Irish Car Bombs,
it is last order up, with the shots, not a joke.
In the gray swirl of the dance by the girl,
and the dudes there, more happy than gay.
Hearing shots, not the drinks, no time to think,
as their bodies fall, the last breath in the fray.
Falling down like the movie, or empire!
Jumping fast, through a hole in a door.
Disappearing, becoming camouflaged,
to hide like an elephant stuck to the floor.
The man in the dark is unhinged and unstable,
he laughs at himself, the dying, their fears.
He's no martyr; his cause is but suicide,
to splash in their blood and dance in their tears.
Who bore the arms in protecting the innocent?
What ammunition or gun rang freedom's bell?
Was there life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness,
when at the nightclub, in Orlando, the last body fell?
By Edlynn Nau
© June 14, 2016
Flag Day
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