I conducted a poetry workshop within my classroom today. It was successful, as lessons go,—my students were so engaged that they didn’t even want to go to band—they wanted to continue to write. Tonight, I found myself watching Oprah on TIVO—and I found myself encompassed in my very own poetry workshop lesson of the day. Oh, a victim of my own instruction—trying to make sense of something so utterly “Senseless”
Senseless
How many will join our ranks?
I am sitting
At home
Watching Oprah and learning of a man
Named Ken Granda
Father of three
Shot
In the hallway of Virginia Tech
Needless….senseless.
I knew something was wrong
He didn’t call me back
He was brilliant
How is his wife?
Children?
Three children…
He was a wonderful father..
Hearts are broken
Children without a father
What do we do?
It is surreal…
We can’t move forward…
We can’t make arrangements
We can move forward until
They release
The body
Release the body
“Our sense of grief can not be compared to your own…”
No, it can not.
Grief
Can not be compared….