Pulse

I listen for the pulses. I can hear them dancing, sweating, fighting, gasping, drinking, lusting, loving

living.

They only stop in death.

My pulse beats faster in fear, anger, outrage, sadness, yearning, impotence.

Pulse is a pattern easy to understand.

Thrum hum thrum hum thrum hum

The choice to take that away from another is not fathomable.

We want the answers, the prevention.

Our pulses quicken as we seek, argue, agree, mourn.

None of that will start those pulses again. They will never race to dance, sweat, fight, gasp, drink, lust, love, again.

My pulse beats loud with hope if not optimism that we will come together with the tough answers to save other pulses from this fate.

 

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