Morbid Poetry

     I was driving in the car today, and I heard on the radio discussion about the recent shootings in Arizona, that the youngest victim of the attack was a nine-year old girl named Christina-Taylor Green, born on September 11th 2001. The fact that she was born on the day that will live on in America, not as a day of infamy, but a day that was shaped by evil and characterized by the heroism of American people. The fact that this girl was born on such a day, only to die at the hands of a man with a gun, that has a sense of poetry to it. Not any good poetry by any stretch of the imagination, but it's poetic nonetheless. To be born on a day of tragedy, to die on another.