Like resistless air torn by a bullet
Life unmasked itself in a baby
innocent, playful, illiterate...
for half a second or so,
and ran!
Past Mother who, amazed by your giggles,
called you mon âme!
Past father; arriving home
to say goodnight,
and a quick wave before bed.
Past school days and holidays,
taught to eat books and ***** information
lost through thorough knowledge!
Aye! Aye! Black cats and red eyed bats.
Past the lustbird who made love
to your left ear and slammed the other
shut!
Life passed your very black hair and set it white.
Seems like the bullet hit sharp in your chest.
And now a baby cries bald..

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.

DIRECTIONS

I’m heading West
(where ever that is) .

I march off into the distance
of field & sky.

West is where
my uncle is.

I cut through
the heat haze.

My uncle’s dinner
wrapped up in a scarf on the end of a stick

as if I am
running away into forever.

Tea slops in an old milk bottle
with a piece of cloth as a stopper.

I stare into the empty air
as if suddenly I will discover there

a sign saying:
“West – this way! ”

My Auntie Nellie’s instructions
still stamped on the inside of my stupid skull.

“Go west into the field
with your Uncle Michael’s dinner.

“Tell him. . .”

Me too terrified to tell her
I don’t know
where West is?

Typical townie!

I search the farm field by field
‘till I finally find him

sprouting out of a field
with a cloud attached to his head

beside the broken rickety gate
where the tiniest ever wild strawberries grow.

So this is where West is!

Why didn’t she say so in the first place!
This I know!

Why send me like a fool on a child’s errand!

My uncle devours everything ‘cept
the scarf & the stick.

Tells me
(“Oh no! ”)

to go South to where Uncle Seanie is

and. . .