Students in Dr. Hills’ creative writing non-fiction class wrote personal reflections about Sunday’s tragedy in Las Vegas. The following reflections are by Drew DeVoy and Will Parker.
Drew DeVoy
“From out of the city, the dying groan and the soul of the wounded cries for help; yet God charges no one with wrong.” — Job 24:12
How do I glorify God in this moment? I saw the Instagram post of a friend who was at the festival: a sunny picture of four friends in western wear. The caption read something like, “… don’t know why anyone would do this. It only ruins a good time… #hateterrorism.”
It feels disingenuous. Maybe ignorant. Maybe apathetic. How do I glorify Christ in the shadow of the Vegas strip? In my twenty years, the news has informed sundry times of “the worst mass shooting in U.S. history.”
How do I respond? Violence rages. Evil blinds her victims with hate. There is weeping and gnashing teeth. How do I sit and weep for another 59—60, including the gunman. God, what are you doing? What would you have me do?
Will Parker
I’ve got a dead pencil in my hand
And three doors down
Politicians are already shouting
Arguing
Flaunting agendas
Opinions
I’ve got a dead pencil in my hand
In the room next door,
the bard is doubled over
Weeping, gasping
The kind that crumples your chest
Clenches your face
Petrifies your fists
“Fifty-nine Dead, Fifty-nine DEAD”
I have a dead pencil in my hands
In the room across the hall
The bass from the second row
Of choir class
Sings
When peace, like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
But in my room there is nothing
Nothing but my cacophonous breathing
And the dead pencil in my hand
john carter says
great post