Her face was pressed against the window of the school bus,
A face full of terror, screaming, aching, calling out to us,
Why? Why? Nine more dead, killed, shot, slaughtered at school.
Done by an armed person with a military tool.
With a gun designed for combat, a gun made for soldiers for post Viet Nam
A weapon to create chaos, to penetrate legs, hearts, to end any sense of calm.
Nine More, this is more than the hundredth time this year, in our country.
Maybe bought at a Walmart, for sure bought legally?
They say one in twenty of us own an AR-15
Are we forever caught in a crossfire? Our children in between?
Her face was pressed against the window of the school bus.
A face full of terror, screaming, aching, calling out to us:
Please stop it y’all, I just want to go to school.
To be with my friends, to giggle, play tag and act a fool.
To be a child, to be alive and well, not to be just nine and dead in an armed swimming pool.
Where are my lifeguards? Will you help me create a young, smiling face on that school bus?
I don’t want to be a number to settle a score.
Please make me the last and not the beginning,
Of more than Nine More.
Rev. Anthony Mtuaswa Johnson