Waiting for My America
When I was 5 years old,
the man on the television said,
President Kennedy is dead.
That bullet ripped through my brain.
My eyes welled up,
I ran outside
and cried
behind the garage.
My father tried to comfort me saying
Bad men kill good people.
My mind reeled,
Bad men can’t kill Superman?
My father replied
Superman is make-believe.
The president is in heaven now.
Alone in my thoughts,
I knew bad men killed Jesus
and he went to heaven,
but
he promised to return.
Maybe President Kennedy would
come back again also.
Submited by
Monday, May 16, 2011 - 11:41
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