Julvonnia McDowell
Can you hear my tears?
Coronavirus is causing tears too and this pandemic brings fear like this epidemic brings tears: gun violence. You see this mask can't shield these tears from the pain that stains your eyes. Covid is said to feel like shards of glass as you breathe. Gun violence feels like that too plus shards of glass that roll down your cheeks. My tears fall as a way to tell my story and gives sound to my eyes often without warning. As trees sway from side to side; they tell a story of peace and give a sound of tranquility. But my tear ducts tell a different story. My tears sing a song to a different melody. As they fall the world feels like it's closing in on me. I attempt to try to lift my head to drown out the sound, but the sound of my tears is beating erratically. I can't make sense of this sound as each tear drops down and dance on my chin to the tune of pain. While my chin is resting on my chest as a bed, but the tears are so heavy that it is making it difficult to lift my head. This sound is far from silent. Can you hear my tears? These tears are falling and can be heard beyond the highest mountain. As I try to climb up from the depths of grief to take a peek and break free, but these grief tears are raging war within me. I wipe each tear, but the sound is getting louder. Can you hear the intensity? This sound causes my heart to beat differently. Can you hear the sound of pain? Can you hear the sound my tears bring? Trying to reason with my heart that my life has been forever changed. I stare with a slight squint of my eyes, thinking I can hold this sound in tight. Tightly, I try to fight as the sound escapes and make way for this intense pain that gun violence brings. Can you hear my tears? My son, my 2nd born love, my baby, my 14-year-old child, is gone. 17 minutes! The sound of his tears were so loud that they now prevail in me. My tears give sound to his heartbeat that once uttered the words, what I want to be when I grow up. Now that is truly an incomplete dream, can you hear the tears from my son? It is the loud sound of a life taken by a bullet from an unsecured gun. Do you know what that sounds like? It is the sound of pain that often can't be explained. It is the sound of soaked pillowcases from sleepless nights. Can you hear my tears? Are you listening to the sound as I close my eyes. The sound gets louder and louder as the tears fall. The sound of my tears are hard to disguise as I try to wipe them discreetly from those around, but they hear the sound. I try to conceal the color of my tears because they are supposed to be clear, but the sound has now given them the color red from the blood that my son bled. Can you hear my tears?
Bio
Julvonnia McDowell is a military wife and mother, who currently resides in Georgia. Her 14-year-old son was shot and killed while visiting family for Spring Break in Savannah by another teen playing with an unsecured firearm. She's a gun violence survivor, a fellow with Everytown Survivor Network and the Survivor Membership Lead for Georgia. During her four years as a fellow, Julvonnia has shared her survivor story to an array of audiences; including features in Essence, Vogue, Humanity and People magazines. The tragic death of her son has led her to bring awareness to an issue plaguing our communities: gun violence. She writes poetry to be transparent and it is therapeutic.