Please tell me that I did not see this —
An armed manchild walking through a school,
Clutching, waving a weapon of war;
Young boy, exits bathroom, spots him; runs.
Where? How can he ever outrun what he saw?
Tell me that I did not see this.
Please tell me that I did not hear this —
Sounds of gunfire echoing through a hall,
Where 10-year olds usually laugh,
Police in armor standing, waiting up against a wall,
While more shots ring out, in place of joyful shouts.
Tell me I did not hear this.
Please tell me I imagined what I watched —
That I didn’t really see a Police Chief negotiating on a cellphone,
With the mass murderer while he was still killing kids —
While the killer was still killing children.
Or, that 376 trained police, carrying guns and shields, stood by,
Listening to the sounds of death coming from two classrooms.
Tell me I imagined what I watched.
Please tell me this is a nightmare, a night terror —
Grandchildren like mine, torn to shreds, bullet-raped,
Trusting us to keep them safe,
To put thoughts of love, beauty and wonder in their heads;
Instead, some stay alive by masking in the blood of friends, now dead.
Night terrors without end;
Never will I sleep in peace again.