I’ll never forget seeing the news on the TV.
I was about to fly home to South Miami…
A destination which is just a few hours south of where this all took place.
The words on the screen
flashing in the dark space
below a young face.
And then another.
And another.
Some younger or the same age as me.
The volume was muted,
But words can scream.
“20 dead and counting.”
“30 dead and counting.”
“40 dead and counting.”
“Terrorist attack.”
“Sons, daughters, mothers, fathers.”
“Worst mass shooting in US history.”
“Lesbian. Bi. Trans. Gay.”
I couldn’t turn away.
I felt so…alone
in that moment.
Though I was surrounded by good friends,
none of them could own this
dark fear that started to creep into my soul.
That old familiar cold
that reminded me how small I was.
This crowded airport…kept moving.
But everything inside of me went still.
I envy the people who felt safe in that moment.
Their sun still shined.
Nothing in their universe had shifted.
But an eclipse had begun to set over mine.
I’m not mad at them…
They just can’t relate in the same way…
And do I even want them to?
Truth be told…
Yes.
No.
Maybe so?
I made it back home that night.
But honestly, I was barely holding it together.
When I got home…
I cried.
I cried for those people whose only crime
was being just like me.
It was another reminder that we weren’t free.
Freedom is the ability to still eat
after watching the news feed.
The club’s name was Pulse.
And I couldn’t help but wonder
if the lives inside
weren’t the only thing that flat-lined that night…
Where is the voice of those on the outside?
Will you stand with us now?
Will you lend us your hand?
Will you take a stand
to seek justice and give aid to us in our time of need?
Please!
Please…
Don’t make us do this on our own…
Again.
And then…
I saw a strange combination of love and distance which I am still processing to this day.
Healthcare workers working late.
Hospital bills being paid.
I saw blood donation lines that stretched for blocks.
I saw flocks of theatre workers dressed as angels to shield mourners from hate.
I saw hope.
And I saw my own privilege in these moments when realized how different the story would have gone 20 years ago.
But I also heard silence.
A silence so loud,
It’d break your heart if you dwelt on it too long.
From those who are quick to speak when it fills their own stomach,
but not when it fills the one beside them…
For those who preach love and grace,
But not if the ones hurt are gay…
Where was your voice in those days?
Why did you hesitate,
and then refrain
from giving your love?
Where was your shoulder to cry on?
Where was your empathy for the lives affected that night?
Are you completely incapable of lending us your love even in the darkest of times?
Is the burden too much to bear?
Our heavy hearts were
Seeking your love and your care,
only to be turned away because of…what?
What real justification do you have?
Your silence was so loud.
But thankfully the silence was not enough
to snuff
out the outpouring of love that so many gave.
To you I must say…
Thank you.
May we all remember the 49 lost.
May we all remember that love comes at a cost.
But most importantly may we all remember that in the end:
United we stand,
Divided we fall,
And above all…
Love is love.