March 14, 2018

“There’s a walkout” was whispered, planned, carried out.

At ten a.m. some filed out, avoided the stares and glares and skeptical looks. 

We met in the quad, we shared our thoughts, acknowledged that prayers just weren’t enough. 

Someone read the names, we had a moment of silence, we felt safe and a part of something important after all this violence.

A discussion was had, the backlash was bad, yet we went to to class anything but sad. 

We made a difference, even if it was small, it meant more than doing nothing at all. 

17 minutes is not that long, but we all walked away feeling more strong. 

I made a choice, I used my voice and that will never be wrong. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741