Peter Rabbit’s House

April 7, 2017, Prescott- 

There they were, the day before  the  first demon came,

living in beautiful anticipation

of the joy that is equal parts sacred and secular.

On the day before the first demon came,

a little boy took his father’s hand

and went to call, at Peter Rabbit’s House.

There was where they both went to dream.

On the day that the first demon came,

young friends mused, about just how

amazing that Christmas would be.

On the day the first demon came,

a grandfather started his day,

sitting in his own house of dreams,

and looked out on the school,

across the street.

Then the first demon came,

the little dreamers fell,

along with some

of their protectors.

The first demon died,

of his own hand.

Some other little dreamers

ran to the grandfather,

who took them in,

on the day the first demon came.

Other demons came,

in his wake,

threatening the grandfather,

and the families,

of the fallen little dreamers.

They always come in packs,

these demons,

even though they claim

to not know one another.

We, though, know who they are.

We, who love our little dreamers,

will stand for them,

and the packs of demons,

will fall by the wayside,

far from Peter Rabbit’s House.

( This is inspired by viewing the film, “Newtown”)

 

6 thoughts on “Peter Rabbit’s House

  1. Very evocative and very powerfully written poem, my friend.

    Reminds me of how the demons entered my life that fateful May 18th, 2010 the day my dad suddenly collapsed to the floor while shaving in the bathroom and had to be rushed to hospital by ambulance (dying less than a month later).

    I don’t imagine the new owners of the house (after I was forced to moved out on my sister’s lawyer’s orders) were as kind to the rabbit Jack O’ Hare living in our back yard.

    And the demons have been in my life ever since.

    And no Jack O’Hare.

    And no Peter Rabbit.

    Are left.

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