Do not worry about our march to freedom,
with two steps forward and one step back,
do not worry about the pace that we lack.
Do not be disappointed by the hurdles we face,
as we jump one, another’s put in place.
For we will get there come what may.

Do not be angry about the words that are said,
as we dispel one lie, another is brought,
do not be angry about the myths that are taught.
Do not be daunted by the struggles that lie ahead,
as one fire is dowsed, another is fed.
For we will get there I’m sure some day.

Do not be disheartened by the mountain to climb,
as we climb higher and turn the tide,
do not be disheartened if we slip and slide.
Do not be weary of the journey still to go,
As we walk fast, they walk slow.
For we will get there come what may.

There is a bullet in a box of crayons with really strange names like Parkland Perrywinkle, Sandy Hook Sanguine, and Great Mills Green in a place where children play Russian Roulette with their school supplies when they reach in to grab one and they’ve been learning about probability this week Forrest Gump will tell them you never know if you’re going to finish the lesson or turn into a statistic my sister likes to create mosaics by putting a hairdryer to crayons melting cascades of wax down a blank page sometimes she reaches in and it’s the one lead crayon at the top of the page and it’s only one color that seeps down into the crevices of the cafeteria’s tile floor that proceeds to wash away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers washes away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers I see another child reach into the box and I write another word problem I write another word problem: “Zoey reaches into a box of crayons. What is the likelihood she will not get to hang her drawing up on her kitchen refrigerator? What is the likelihood her funeral photo will hang there instead?” Draw students’ attention to the key word “likelihood.” Tell students This word shows that the question is asking whether or not you will live to tell your parents how your day at school was. and I wonder when school desks will take the shape of caskets in a place where both screams of laughter and screams of terror
are permitted

Seasons come and gone,
grey ice fights the waves.
Sun stretches its arms,
its reach not far away.

Warm air pockets come,
cold air fights to maintain.
A steel grip on my soul,
but it slips away.

Sitting on stony earth,
the most comfortable I’ve been it weeks.

Hard ice gives away,
to soft embracing mud.
Wind whispers warm secrets,
of sweet summer love.

Holding out for hope,
the brighter future fades,
taken by the sound,
of an invasive plane.

We came from all over the land
To show our hand and our signs
And resign from the silent crowd
That allowed this filth to control
And dig a hole in our Constitution;
To point out the fools that choose
To use our schools to abuse us
With their taking of bribes and
Payoffs for scribes in the media.

It was an amazing time to climb
Off our sofas and it was thrilling
Even with the wind chilling us.
But these kids, friends and families
Had grown tired of homilies by crooks
Justifying what they took from us
And throwing us all under the bus
In the name of patriotism and then
Giving back in nepotism to their
Friend's foreign bank accounts,
As well as a hefty kickback account,
Which amounts to the same thing.

The nation admired the children
They had sired should move to fight
For what is right when leaders
Turned out to be followers of wrong.
They lifted voice in songs and chants
And shocked the pants off mediocrity
By standing in all solemnity to face
The worst of our race who ruled
That murdering children ranked less
Than the mess our country has begun
By protecting horrible guns more
And giving children in school
A much lower overall score.

Not often enough, we wake up
As a country, and stand up
To picket, protest and crowd
Around the symbols we have found
That mean we are being swindled
And the innocent are being starved
And carved up and killed daily
So our leaders can go gaily on
With business as usual; a kind of
Tone-deaf musical for the twisted.

But we stopped liking the lyrics
And cynics doing the singing
With bad voices too loudly,
So, we proudly declare a mistrial
That has gone on too long a while
And needs to quit. Those in power
Need to sit down at home
And leave the real people alone
And we at home need to step in
And begin this freedom and equality
Promise and fulfillment for real
And apply it to the common weal.

On these cold nights
I dream of yellow
In the depths of a fire
Crackling to match the thunder.
The trickling rain
Shows a mirror on the ground
Another world,
Close my eyes and sink under
Maple syrup and apple cider
My inner thoughts
Like honey colored drops.