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.
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.
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.
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
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