on the 23rd anniversary: the good bones of our broken house

CeCe’s Musings: a poetry prompt

The poet Maggie Smith wrote “Good Bones” after the Orlando nightclub shooting in June of 2016, yet the theme touches any tragedy we have endured. Smith said after she became a parent, she felt the terror that comes with loving our children and knowing we can’t shield them from the awfulness of our world. How do we project hope in a dark vat of hopelessness? How do we keep our babies safe when even schools are unsafe? (There have been almost 300 school shootings since Columbine.) How do we bring light to the darkness?

In “Good Bones,” Smith writes about what she keeps from her children. She wishes to hide her unwise decisions, and the harm that often comes to other children. Even though hers are loved, there are ones who are not. How does she guard them from evil and heartache and violence? She wants to sell them the world, even though it is “a real shit show.” Even though the house may be falling apart, we want our children to see the good bones, to know it can be repaired. We wish for them to learn from the builders so perhaps they can be the carpenters, the painters, the plumbers.

So, on this 23rd anniversary when two emotionally wounded boys murdered 13 people in a place of learning, I offer up Maggie Smith’s (and my) words as a hymn of hope.

Our broken old house has good bones. It can be made beautiful.

23 years ago by christie shumate mcelwee

two scared, angry, armed boys entered a school

killing 12 children and one teacher

and then themselves

traumatizing us all

Google search brings waves of grief

students exiting the building with hands held over heads

parents hovering near, hoping for good news, knowing bad news will break them

grainy surveillance photos

those who huddled under library desks

anger, fear, anguish

nation mourned

nothing fixed

children still are murdered, in schools and churches and streets

and even though this house has good bones, at times it’s hard to see the beauty

yes, this broken old house has good bones

hanging on to hope our children will wish to make it beautiful

(“Good Bones” by Maggie Smith is one of my favorite poems. I go to it when I am lost, or when the world seems on fire. For the past few years that seems like every single day. I saw a post online this morning that reminded me April 20 is the 23 anniversary of the Columbine shooting, an event that changed everything, and, surprisingly, nothing. I still ache for those students and parents and that community. I cry that our grandchildren have to practice active shooter drills. I mourn for all the children lost since that day. But I also hope. I hang onto that damn hope because that is who I want to be, even though everything seems hopeless. I hope our children and grandchildren will rebuild this broken house.)