Processing the grief and horror of the school shooting in Uvalde, TX with a poem. God, have mercy.
Fourth Grade Child, Crucified Fourth grade child on the cross, you did not choose this. There is nothing in you nor your family, friends, or schoolmates that deserved this. All forever changed without consent. Where was Christ to wipe your tears and who was there to honor all the sacred blood that left your side? Fourth grade child, crucified because the Romans shouted “freedom” and would not give up their guns. Because lobbyists lobbied and senators are spineless and lines are drawn unjustly and our addiction to violence is strong. You deserved to live among a people who cared. You deserved a long life among a people who are for life. And now you deserve the birthing of a world where this will never happen again. Even so, you’re gone forever. It would not be enough. It would be something. Fourth grade child, the grief of those who love you is real and raw and right and angry. You were unprotected by the ones who pledged to keep you safe. We failed you. No excuses remain. Nothing to be said and nothing left to do but bear witness and not turn away. To grieve and scream. Hold vigil. Refuse to forget and move on. Demand better. Fourth grade child, innocent, I need you to know - I need us to show you tangibly - your life was worth more than all the money in the world and all the power thrown around by those who lead but do not love us.