By Wong-Ya Jones Sr.

I became the thought to money

Never a worry to the care

They knew what I bring

But their mind was to another desire to bear

 

Now I am created

And destruction is my end factor

Even as I hold not to speak

For my opinion may be your last hearing

Because I speak with a blast

 

The tears shall I bring to flow

For I come with volume and power

But it’s not a choice I choose

Yet they seem not to get the clue

For rest may be the final place

To those in my way

 

Because I am the one-way solution

Until I speak again or am destroyed

Someday you’ll meet my family

Just as others already have

 

We come small

We come large

We come hidden

We come odorless

But we will come

Because of man’s love of money

 

I pray today, seen not as a toy

For I may not be empty

And you will let me rest

Leaving me to be at peace

From the pain I cause

 

But there’s no stopping

When push comes, I am pulled

Always locked and loaded

 

And bank accounts rise

Upon the bodies that lay

One another piled up high

Memories of dreams and nightmares

Taken away

 

This is what I will and can do

From the beginning to the end

Therefore, I’m speaking out

And not shooting off

 

Sincerely,

The Gun

The Rev. Wong-Ya Jones Sr. is a retired U.S. Army veteran and a minister at Metropolitan Baptist Church. Email him at wongya2@msn.com.