I saw the sign as the little voices ran with me,
attention to your children, don’t play hop scotch in sand,
heed attention to the calls out at night,
and the milk bottles left on counters,
I heard them all at once, their feet, the sound
of their eyes looking up at me,
our children,
I ran and stopped in the snow, one flake with each voice
calling out to he heard, every voice a hand through
the gun fire reaching for some way through the doors
of Narnia,
and the guns went off,
and they ran again with me,
made me stop to see them
and I looked up to god
said, “no don’t bring me this,
don’t’ bring me their souls through
fogs,
on little white dolls in shiny blue shoes
left on the classroom floors,
don’t bring me the teacher too young
to have known her first pupils,”
and I knew the sounds of tears,
I saw him shoot his birth place,
I saw him bring up the fires of hell
and I saw him gun down the angels,
with the forbidden likeness of
ants being trampled on
and the gun lobby,
and Facebook posts
with little tender smiles,
and I heard them in the streets tell me,
“I just want my voice heard amongst the shootings,”
And they took my hand and surrounded me, and said
“make the world hear us.”
Photo Credit
Photo By Melinda Cochrane
Please Share Your Thoughts - Leave A Comment!