The sound of a bullet goes out my door and walks up my street. It buys from the corner store and heads where friends meet.
A protester dressed as the Statue of Liberty plays dead in the street during a demonstration against gun violence, San Francisco, California, 24 March 2018 (AP Photo/Josh Edelson)
The sound of a bullet
Moves like a casual walk.
It goes out my door
And walks up my street.
It buys from the corner store
And heads where friends meet.
The sound of a bullet
Talks like a relative.
It visits us daily
And speaks to our kin,
Sharing our blood
Underneath all our skin.
The sound of a bullet
Echos like high school.
It attends every class
And makes new friends.
If we don’t pass
It will trigger an end.
The sound of a bullet
Rings like justice.
It patrols neighborhoods
And targets its prey:
Innocent black folk,
On just any day.
The sound of a bullet
Isn’t the voice of a black kid.
I go out my door
And walk up my street.
I buy from the corner store
And go where friends meet.
The sound of a bullet
Sounds like violence.
Out my door,
Up my street,
From the corner store,
Until we meet.
***
Author’s note: I wrote this poem after hearing peers share similar stories of violence in their communities. It reminds me of the daily fear that gun violence has become normalized, and I hope by sharing my story that we can take more tangible steps in addressing the issue.
QUESTIONS TO CONSIDER:
- What emotions does the author feel?
- Why is it difficult for the United States to regulate or restrict the use of guns?
- What are the gun laws in your country? Are civilians permitted to own and use guns? If so, in what circumstances?
Naudika Williams, a delegate of the International Congress of Youth Voices, is a writer and poet raised in the San Francisco Bay area. When she is not exploring her humanity through sci-fi and fantasy in her writing, she’s a wanderer, a daydreamer and a community college student at Laney College.