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Writer's pictureREFORMING AMERICA

Resting place, stolen pulses

Written By: Jenna Sun, 15, Connecticut


A poem


Part 1- When time stood still

Int. classroom

blam.

Babies taken away in a flash of smoke

Crimson red slicking the floor

Written farewells

Feigned stillness

Real stillness

Piercing cries and silent tears

Fearful children shielded by teachers, trying not to eye the barrel of the gun

Grubby hands clutching each other

Broken glass

Broken dreams

Broken lives

Broken families

Ext. streets of America Dark nights chilling to the bone Broad daylight Drive by shootings Daily tragedies that don’t land the headlines.

Int. the time of our lives

The bass thumps throughout the building

Bodies swaying and joyous chatter

Shots splashing aimlessly onto the dance floor

Hushed pants into the phone

Stained dresses and kicked off heels

Ext. places of worship

Our elders going without peace

Brittle bones unable to run

Bones shattered for their beliefs

Whispered prayers


Part 2- The Storm

Sirens wail in the distance

Bulked up figures donned head to toe in tactical gear circle the building Hungry news reporters step off of sleek cars and vans,

Dressed immaculately with their heels clicking on the ground

A prepped medical team stands by,

Waiting for a call to go in from the officers that never comes

Hands over their heads, people run out.

Close your eyes

Don’t look down

Run, run, run, they’re told.

Always run, run, run.


Part 3- The Agony

Families await painful news in nearby fire departments, police stations, or hospitals.

Some parents hug their kids and don’t let go.

Some just watch.

Watch as their children fade from beating hearts to cold statistics.

Soon comes the incomprehensible insensitivity.


Finale- The Revolution

Time and again we fail our children.

We don’t ensure their high school graduation

Their admission to college

The first day of their new job.

They won’t ever see the day they marry or start a family.

We fail to nurture our children by denying them again and again.

Yet it’s these children that are taking the initiative

Charging their pain into action.

We are no strangers to these shadows

To the illuminated tight knit town bogged down by tragedy

A nation in shock

A nation in grief

A nation in anger

We ask you not to forget,

We ask you not to forgive.

We demand it.

Yet we forget.

The clock ticks on.

We move on.

And history repeats itself.

The cycle begins again,

It will never end.

This is America.

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