A Normal Day in February
To arm or disarm?
That is the loaded question.
A student changed my life one day
when he walked into the hall
loaded shotgun in his hands,
aiming, shooting, but hitting the wall.
Another shot rings out,
someone screams, a teacher hit,
some commotion, then suddenly
it was over, that was it.
Taken down by a man so brave
unarmed, he wrestles the gun away.
That man, a hero, among many others
who saved more than just my life that day.
And as we huddled under desks,
unaware yet knowing what just occurred,
LOCKDOWN happened next,
But we had never known that word.
Hours passed, still and quiet,
except for the helicopter outside
the news was spreading as the SWAT team
line our halls, guns and shields up by their side.
We walked to the gym,
the longest walk we’d ever take,
past these men, solemn, quiet,
like walking down the aisle at your own wake.
We’re lined up once more,
packed into busses which take us away,
from the school, from the hell
that we all lived through that day.
By Krystie Beale
A poem from Disarm: A Themed issue Responding to Mass Shootings in America