Upon a Tuesday did I meet my death---

The heavens wept in gray, the streets ran ice,

And I, who kissed my son at morning’s gate,

Did not yet know what fate awaited me.

I dropped him at the schoolhouse door and watched

His small form disappear through painted halls,

And spoke the words we’d spoken every morn:

“I love thee to the moon and back again.”

He turned and smiled---oh, that immortal smile!---

And answered as he always answered me:

“And back again, Mama! And back again!”

Those were the last words that I heard him speak.

The last of all the thousand tender words

That passed between us in his six short years.

[She touches her chest, where the bullet entered]

They say I smiled at him---the man who killed me.

They say my final words before the shots

Were these: “We’re good, dude. I’ve no hard feelings.”

And then---

[She stops. Cannot continue. After a moment, she masters herself.]

What grace lives in the name that I was given!

My mother chose it, knowing not what weight

That single syllable would come to bear.

Grace: the unmerited gift. The blessing free.

The love that asks for nothing in return.

I tried to be the vessel of that word,

To pour it out on everyone I met,

To be the sunshine in a world of shadow.

And in the end, I poured it on my killer.

I gave him grace. He gave me three cold bullets.

[She turns slightly, as if sensing COLE’s presence]

But I will not begin with bitterness.

For bitterness is just another wall,

And I have spent my life as one who builds

Not walls but bridges, doors, and open windows.

So let me tell you who I was before

The frozen street, the gun, the shattering glass.

Let me tell you of the light I carried

Before the darkness swallowed it forever.

COLE:

Upon a Tuesday did I kill a woman.

The heavens wept in gray, the streets ran ice,

And I, who kissed my children at the dawn,

Did not yet know what monster I would prove.

What beast lies coiled within the soldier’s heart

That, woken, strikes at shadows? I did see

Her face---a face of kindness, not of war---

And yet my hand, unbidden, found the gun.

[He looks at his hands]

They say I followed training. Perceived a threat.

Defended self and brothers under arms.

They say that I am hero, patriot,

A man who did his duty, nothing more.

They say these things on television screens,

In press releases, statements to the court.

They say I acted as a good man would

When danger reared its head upon the street.

[Beat]

They lie. And I, who built my life on lies,

Who learned in Ramadi to wall off truth,

Who buried every horror in a box

And told myself the box would hold forever---

I know the taste of falsehood on my tongue.

I know how easy ‘tis to speak the words

That make the nightmare into something noble.

I know, because I’ve spoken them for years.

[He turns to the audience]

But here, upon this stage, before you all,

I’ll speak a different language. I’ll confess

Not what the lawyers want, nor what the press

Would have me say to save my tattered name.

I’ll tell you what I am: a man who broke.

A soldier who came home but left his soul

In desert sands six thousand miles away.

A father who could not protect his children

From the very monster he’d become.

The kind you think you know — not love that’s caught

Like fever, nor the bolt from summer skies

That strikes and burns and leaves you asking “why?”

This is a story about love that’s real,

That’s built on years of patience, trust, and feel —

Love that shows up, love that stays, love that tries.

Love that looks you softly in the eyes

And says: I’m here. I’m yours. I will not leave.

This is a story about those who believe

They have that love. And they are not wrong.

They are not foolish. Their love is strong.

…BEAT…

And yet.

…BEAT…

There is a wall that some have built

So long ago they’ve forgotten the guilt

That laid the first stone, the fear that raised

The second, third, until the heart, amazed

At its own architecture, forgot the door

Was ever there at all. And so no more

Does sunlight reach the places kept within.

The wall becomes the self. And so begin

The years of loving from behind the glass —

Real love, true love, but love that cannot pass

Completely through. Love held at arm’s length.

Love with tenderness but not full strength.

Love that says “I’m yours” but means “this much.”

Love that longs to feel a deeper touch

But doesn’t know it’s longing. Doesn’t see

The fortress it has made. Cannot be free

Because it doesn’t know it is not free.

…BEAT…

And there are those who, burned by fire’s bright pain,

Have sworn they’ll never reach for fire again.

They find a gentle warmth, a quiet hearth,

A friend who asks for nothing, and the dearth

Of passion seems a fair price for the peace.

They tell themselves that wanting brings no ease,

That burning only leads to being burned.

They settle into comfort. They have learned —

Or think they’ve learned — that this is wisdom’s way.

They do not see they’re slowly turning grey.

…BEAT…

Tonight, you’ll meet four people, each beloved,

Each loving, each in ways they haven’t discovered

Incomplete. Not broken — that’s too cruel.

Incomplete. Still learning. Still in school.

They have love. Real love. That is not the question.

The question is: can love become a lesson?

Can love that’s real become a love that’s whole?

Can they stop guarding and reveal the soul?

…BEAT…

The answer isn’t found in choosing right —

In picking this love over that, in flight

From one safe harbor to another’s arms.

The answer isn’t in another’s charms.

The answer is within. It always was.

Before you give yourself, know who it does

Belong to. Know yourself. Your walls. Your fire.

Before you choose another, first enquire:

Who am I when I am not afraid?

Who am I when every wall is unmade?

…BEAT…

This is a story about love. But first

It asks: before you satisfy your thirst

At someone else’s well, have you found your own?

Before you make another’s heart your home,

Have you made peace with yours? Do you know who

You are alone? For only then can two

Become something greater than the sum.

This is that story. Watch it now. Become.