School Shooting

I wrote this poem after my friend at a neighboring high school survived a shooting at her high school.

I lie on my bed

numb,

unemotional,

shocked,

scared.

Fear stains my mind as I reflect

on a placid Tuesday morning

in Claremont.

A usual day in chorus.

We prepare for concerts,

indulging in normal routine.

Carefree... content...

unaware...

A sudden blast startles us.

A chemistry explosion?

Defening eruptions penetrate.

Sinuous voices now

punctuated by gunshots,

the demonic splintering the angelic.

Tick, tick, tick-9:30-

lives are forever changed.

Shock... hysteria....

Why?

The sound of bombs ignite horror through

our veins and send chiils

that pinch the skin like needles.

Some run.

Some stand paralyzed in shock,

numbness engulfing all other

emotions.

Billows of powder now

blanket the hall, creating

ghostly images.

I look through the delicate webs of cotton

and see the fruits of hatred.

Bullets shatter glass

and invade bodies,

as malice sears the the souls of the perpetarators.

A student prays,

another hides in stunned confusion,

a teacher bleeds.

LIke children,

we are helpless-

longing to be in mother's arms.

Screaming... frantic...

Why?

Two faces are plastered against the window.

The hooror in their eyes

strips away my consciousness.

My first instinstict is to run.

I duck as bullets spray the halls.

OUr school is now the grounds of warfare.

Mortal fighting in a field of bombs and bullets.

Weapons that have fallen into the wrong hands

have only one purpose and they are killing us.

All I hear is gunfire.

Crackling, crackling.

Hsmmering, bursting, screaming, ringing, what now?

Too much

Too young

Too soon

So scared

Help us.

I struggle to escape but am slowed

as if trudging through water.

Through the front doors, I see milky clouds

that absorb the sun;

I see golden light and sunburnt pavement.

I cannot get there fast wnough.

I am almost to the door.

A bullet ricochets off the pane.

The glass swirls like a droplet on water,

creating rings that shiver and spread,

shattering as I dash through the door.

All is silent.

I have ecaped hell.

There is a dark room

where ten broken bodies lie

and where others play dead.

Angels embrace the lifeless

and their wings flicker light

against a wall of helpless shadows.

God now wraps His arms around the school

and gathers the souls of the lost.

Time picks up and I am vunerable, insecure.

Who to trust?

OUr haven is destroyed

 and we are scattered.

I am angry... numb....

Why?

Are there answers in silence?

Because I am asking and you don't answer.

Or maybe the silence is you listening...

Reviews

[Abishai100]

Very jarring. Columbine was like Oklahoma City, surely. Very graphic and equally surreal in medicinal portions, IMO. Your style is cool...open to personalized experience/interpretation...consider developing your 'view' for integrating perception with doubt. Liked it. Thanx!

A