And when a gunman makes a choice; I wonder what goes through a gunman’s mind; And does a gunman think twice before him take another someone life? — Damien Jr Gong Marley.

We hear a report of another set of gunshots in Bermuda. Yet we are now numb.

Daily, along the way home or to work, we routinely drive across at least three to four areas where warm life met cold lead. Yet we are now numb.

I hear the laughter of my three-year-old cousin playing in the very same soil and grass that was bathed in the blood of his dying father a month before his birth. Yet we are now numb.

Daily, we interact with the families of those who now populate those well-kept, white-washed final resting places surrounded by green grass. Yet we are now numb.

Scrolling through social media, the RIPs have met the SIPs for more than thirty of our Bermudian men who sat in the same class rooms, listened to the same Sunday school teachers and partied at the same clubs. Yet we are now numb.

Routinely we hear and read preachers, Police and, yes, those politicians of all stripes, recite the same thing every time a parent is notified their child lays in their own blood. Yet we are numb.

As a country, we need to stop fooling ourselves any longer. We have each become the viewers, victims and yes participants of self-destruction.

Community meetings have not stopped the carnage.

Flying in special speakers has not prevented the wastage.

Blaming political parties has not stopped the blood and tears from flowing.

Pointing out crime statistics or Westgate Correctional Facility to them has not stopped the gunmen’s bullets mowing.

They too are numb.

Our Tears

To the many Bermudian families who have lost loved ones to violence, my written words can not bring you the comfort of your son, your brother, your cousin, your friend. Most of you are my friends, relatives and/or neighbours, who simply wanted nothing but the best for these young men.

I have felt your tears on my shoulders and your blistering pain in my heart.

Bout That Life

To those who are “bout that life”, let me speak to you as a father, brother, cousin or Godpa, because odds are we are related in some way or another.

I am not here to sugarcoat what you have seen or have heard. Nor am I here to say normal life is easy.

I, too, have had many friends, cousins and neighbours taken down by a gunman.

Bermuda has changed since I was your age — it is a wilder and colder world out there.

That does not mean that you have to be wilder and/or colder.

Yes, there will be those who discard your value or look down on you as not part of society.

I, too, have been where you are, feeling alienated as one of the invisible ones our “beautiful Island” deemed unworthy. That societal alienation leads to frustration, which can give birth to destruction.

Yet taking up arms is not the way.

Play the long game my sons.

Play the long game my nephews.

Play the long game my cousins.

Play the long game my brothers.

Don’t let the game play you.

I love you all.