The Calendar On That Kitchen Wall

That calendar on the kitchen wall marks another crisp January's windy morning, it has brought in slowly-moving clouds, what has passed is part of evident oblivion... unless one remembers what did unfold: tragic days for most, nothing good to toast; more hungry mouths that beg for food, a terror-stricken street with deadly screams: New Orleans was the target of an assassin! Stay away from public places, celebrate at home where the atmospheres is calm and kids smile; the copycat punk who shoots has no reason to live, and he's only fifteen: aren't his parents guilty of the same crime, even without pulling the trigger? Turn off the screen, avoid unnecessary stress! The calendar on that kitchen wall marks everyone's fate, a casualty is expected: today we're alive but tomorrow we'll be dead; could we escape what is destined for us? If life has less thrills, blame who has a grudge and placates his anger with murder to avenge an injustice or a repulsing conviction not shared by all; guard yourself with a shield and bullets won't penetrate your targeted body, find new ways of survival: does it mean you must be isolated? The calendar on that kitchen wall has begun its race through the coming months ahead leaving us breathless: can we catch up to its relentless speed? We must make immediate changes and adjust accordingly: will we watch the exploding fireworks in the main square? Will a car crash into the crowd and cause spills of blood? Copyright( C ) 2025 by Andrew Crisci