The death of innocence is traced,
for most, not to one single date --
instead, naivete's erased
by many twists and turns of fate.
But I can name the day and time
when all my stars went out of line.
Idealism's light went dark
when Sirhan's bullet found its mark.
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Author Notes
On June 5, Robert Kennedy, having just won the California Democratic primary, was shot by Sirhan Sirhan. He died the next day. I was 17 years old, and I revered Bobby. I was awoken for school the next morning by my father's shouts, asking me if I were still against the death penalty. When I learned why he was yelling this at me, my light went dark. To this day I have never felt about another politician or world leader exactly what I felt for Robert Kennedy. My youth ended that day.
Bobby died of his mortal wounds on June 6, two years to the day after he delivered a speech at Capetown, South Africa that is now immortalized on a wall of the John F. Kennedy museum. This is the quote I keep next to my heart when I think of Bobby and all that might have been had he lived. It is a quote I live by as best I can.
"Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance."
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