lockdown

Imagine being in a place 
that everyone promised was safe, 
yet being chased 
by a weapon 
at the age of only eleven. 

School shootings are too normalized. 
Kids grow up scared and traumatized. 
Grief gets debated, politicized. 
It’ll be on headlines for a day or two, 
and the next day there’s new news, 
like, “Someone decided to shoot, but hey, Adidas made new shoes.” 
A resting place being a school —
the way they treat this situation is so cruel.

No one should have fear of that kind,
being held at gunpoint at the age of five.
All you can hear are screams and cries,
kids texting their parents, “Mom, ILY. Bye.”

And it’s not a one-day thing as well.
You can feel the silence where laughter fell.
Fear sits in every hallway cell.
The silence screams louder than the bell.

From one occurrence, kids are traumatized,
life flashing before their eyes,
questioning if they’ll make it out alive.
No one should have to beg, “Put down the gun,”
their life ending before it’s even really begun.

And I won’t say, “What if it was you,”
because it shouldn’t even be imagined. This isn’t a pain we should have to get used to.
This isn’t normal — it’s true.
Schools are meant to build futures, not undo them.

Because a seven-year-old girl had dreams to be
a princess, grow up, and see
the world. She still believed in the tooth fairy,
but now she rests for eternity.

And “If only they got out faster,” we say.
“We should’ve done drills for more days.”
If only the system protected who it promised to.
Time doesn’t owe her a future — we do.

Dedicated to the many schools on many lands,
and every adult who chose silence over command.
How many children must die before you stand?