Shout (Gun Violence)
Shout
So loud the walls shake and the paint chips off in little pieces
Decorating the blood on the floors
And the blood in the hands of those who allow a child to possess a rifle
A child, whose only job is to go to school
Whose only responsibility is to be
Shout for the child
Whose body and soul is now anchored under the weight of the weapon in their hand
The power swaddling them, as they try to rock themself to sleep
The power gone as soon as they pull the trigger and bullet hits body and leaves a trail of red in the shape of its path
Shout as the red keeps spreading, on hands and floors and mothers and sisters and
Shout so your throat is raw,
and your face is red,
and your mouth is in a permanent O
Shout
So forceful the white house can feel the aftershock
And the legislators,
Shaken from the initial wave,
Stumble to their desks, pen in hand
To write a law to make this right
Not to clean up the blood but to respect it
And make sure no one has to shout again