Would you like to start the new year with an hour each morning of quiet writing in the company of others, without the pressure of sharing or feedback? Please join us for Write Together, January 12-17. Each day’s Zoom session features different readings, different prompts, and the chance to write quietly together in solidarity and appreciation. $100, with one scholarship remaining. Click here for more information and to sign up. 

Because more than half of all suicides in the U.S. are by gun. Because my great-aunt’s leg was shot off by a hunting rifle. Because I watched a stolen Kia with boys hanging out the windows holding guns tear down my block. Because my friend was robbed at gunpoint in the church parking lot.

Because my cousin died by self-inflicted gunshot. Because someone once shot their gun off into my phone to make me think they were dead. Because my teacher friend sometimes calls in sick on Mondays because most school shootings happen on Mondays. Because the instructor in the gun familiarization class I took because I felt I should meet my enemy goes nowhere without his guns, not even room to room in his own apartment. Because when I’m in other countries I don’t worry I’ll be shot.

Prayer for a Potential Mass Murderer, a Future School Shooter, by Manuel Iris

May you find healing
before you find a weapon. 

May you find a safe place to cry
before you find a weapon. 

May your voice find the right words
and the right ears
before you find a weapon. 

May love be as available to you
as weapons are in America. 

I am talking to you
the deeply sad, the sick,
the neglected, the abused,
the bullied, the ignored,
the violent suicidal. 

You are also us,
you come from us
to bite us in the heart
with our own mouth. 

You will be us until we take
the hurt from your heart,
the rage from your mind,
the gun from your hands. 

May the silence heal
your thirst for revenge,
your heart full of hate,
your head full of plans
and scenarios. 

May your hurt
and our wound
stop existing. 

And may we stop being devoured
by the monsters we are, the pain
we have created. 

Click here for more information about Manuel Iris. Today’s poem was first published in Rattle #89, Fall 2025. 

alisonmcghee.com