[It's a little long, and though it looks like two separate poems, they are meant to be read side by side. It just didn't want to get formatted that way. =)]
I get up before the sun,
walk a mile to get a bucket of water;
add a little more to last night’s dinner
to
stretch it out, just a little longer.
Throw a couple of sticks on the meager fire:
it’s a little cold.
I don’t have to break through snow to get to
where I need to
go.
Sun’s shining, birds singing…
Almost don’t notice the man with
the gun.
He asks my business: I say, “School.”
To help me along, he shoves the tip of the
gun—a bayonet point—in my back
and pushes.
I feel blood trickle down my back,
but keep my head up.
I get to school, and immediately peace
washes over.
My God is here.
I can’t read, but I can listen.
Songs, stories, prayers…
All
rush forth without ceasing,
From me, my friends, people I don’t
know.
We’re all His children.
My hands and arms greet Him, tears stream
down my face.
I bow down and bury my face to the ground.
I’m not worthy, but He loves me!
There’s the man with the gun, again.
More of them.
Discovery: school isn’t what they
thought it was.
He recognizes me, smiles, walks over.
Looks at me, tears still fresh on my face.
Tilts his head
and asks: “Do you believe in
Jesus?”
I say: “Yes.”
He aims at my head and pulls the trigger.
I am home.
Do I have to get up? It’s not even 10 am.
Shuffle, shuffle three feet to the bathroom.
Open the fridge, cupboards, what to eat?
So
many choices. Eh, nothing today.
Little cold: check the thermostat, who turned
it up? Mmmm, comfortable.
Mom, my car’s in the shop: gimme a ride.
Such
a pain to ask for rides.
Why are those birds so friggin’ loud? Wish
it weren’t so
sunny today.
People
who have to walk are such
losers. Haha.
Why is every light red? Drive better, mom.
Doesn’t matter—it’s just school.
No
one cares about being there.
I think I have a test in history.
Good
time to catch up on sleep.
Crap. Here we go again. Another stupid day.
I
wish I didn’t have to go.
No one’s here; did all my friends ditch
and not tell me?
Bitches.
Talking, lectures, reading…
Won’t
they just shut up?
Why
is everyone in my face?
I
don’t even know you; what crap are
you telling me about your
boyfriend?
He came to me, so if you have a problem, it’s your problem.
Oh, no you didn’t just hit me! I’ll bury your
face in the
dirt, stupid ho!
Seriously? The principal’s office?
Wasn’t
even my fault. She started it.
What’s that noise? What’s going on?
Gunfire? Oh, God!! What’s going on?!!
Hey, I know that guy…he just shot that girl!
Oh,
please don’t come in here!!
He walks in and asks: “Do you believe in
Jesus?”
I scream: “NO!!!”
He points the gun at me, then walks away.
I am lost.
