Poetry

Sometimes at Stone Soup we receive several submissions that have to do with the same topic. Over the past weeks, we’ve received several related to gun violence, most notably school shootings and police brutality. In light of the shooting in Santa Fe, Texas today, Friday, May 18, 2018, we’ve decided to publish a selection of these sadly relevant pieces online. Drawing by William Drewes, 13 There is a lockdown on October 23, 2015. by Aidan McClure, 7 Lullaby by Rebecca Beaver, 13 Seventeen Graves by Kate Kuan, 11 Plus, a reminder to read our March blog piece, 5 Ways Children Can Make a Difference by Lucy Regnier Kline       There is a lockdown on October 23, 2015. by Aidan McClure, 7 It was very scary! We had to hide in the coatroom for an hour and a half. Everybody was freaking out except for me, you know, because I am writing this. The police needed to give us an emergency early dismissal but not the good kind. Some people hid under their desks. We didn’t get to have lunch at school. The people who are working on the track left early. Mrs. Fitzgerald turned on Johnny Appleseed. Someone named Madison is writing about this to remember. I said I wasn’t afraid. Well now I am. Hu hu hu hu. That’s me breathing loud. I do that when I’m scared. I’m pretty sure everybody is terrified, even our fish is terrified. I will never forget this day. They’ll probably make my mom leave early too. I can’t wait until I get home and by the way I am still hu hu hu huing. They  are starting to call the buses now thankfully. Some people think that they are going to die. Back to top       Lullaby by Rebecca Beaver, 13   This little boy Shot dead- 17 Got into an “altercation” His killer claimed self defense And got away free Florida 2012 That’s where it went down   This little boy Hood pulled up Iced tea in hand Skittle in back pocket A figure, observing from inside a van Zimmerman— I’m not even sure he was a man   Called the police Said he was afraid Of the little boy Was ordered “Stay put. Keep away.” Wait. Soon the world would know their fate   He didn’t Slowly slithered out of his van Stalked the little boy’s way Stared In his eyes So bright, so full of life Suddenly, the “man” Reached for his gun—the bullets…   BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.   Tore through him Dressed in red— Alone, the little boy died Hood pulled up Bright eyes dull Light; gone No one seems to care He’s gone, his killer free He becomes a symbol Of injustice Gun violence Police brutality But when all is said And all is done He was just a little boy Loved by a mother Who doesn’t want a symbol She wants her son Here, safe, alive She wishes with all her heart She had been able to tell him she loves him Say goodbye And sing her son Her poor, sweet baby A lullaby. Back to top   Seventeen Graves by Kate Kuan, 11 A terrible loss on Valentine’s day Students and teachers dead in the fray How did so many lives end this way Because no one saw the signs He aspired to murder and told others so Through an Instagram profile that showed he was a foe But no one noticed and no one would know No one saw the signs Cruz was nineteen, and passed a background check Nobody knew he would take a trek To a school where his expulsion was put into effect Nobody saw the signs Seventeen gravestones ringed with wreaths Because bullets were shot from their metal sheathes Each grave for a person who no longer breathes Because no one saw the signs Back to top