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Tuesday, May 31, 2022

MY DAUGHTER, A HISTORY AND HOLOCAUST EDUCATOR, SAYS IT’S IMPORTANT WE BEAR WITNESS; WE BOTH KNOW IT’S NOT ENOUGH

by Laurie Rosen


Two days after their daughter, Alexandria “Lexi” Aniyah Rubio, was shot and killed in Uvalde, Texas, Kimberly Rubio and her husband are urging elected officials to pass restrictive gun laws to help prevent future tragedies. “We live in this really small town in this red state, and everyone keeps telling us, you know, that it’s not the time to be political, but it is—it is,” Ms. Rubio said, her voice breaking through tears. “Don’t let this happen to anybody else.” Their family was contacted by Gov. Greg Abbott’s office on Wednesday, she said, and asked if they would be willing to meet with the governor. Ms. Rubio and her husband declined. —The New York Times, May  26, 2022. Photo: People visit a memorial for the victims of the mass shooting at Robb Elementary School on May 28, 2022 in Uvalde, Texas, United States. Anadolu Agency/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images via CHRON


He lays still, pretends to be dead. 
He frantically calls his mom from his classroom,
she hides under a desk, covers herself with her dying friend’s blood,
she whispers on the phone to 911, send police,
he hears a bullet crack his friend’s nose.  
She hears a cop shout to her, yells help, gives away 
her hiding spot, then promptly succumbs to gunshot. 

A husband dies broken-hearted two days after his wife perishes 
by gunfire—four children, left parentless.  
A mother’s son never returns home.
A father’s daughter, a cousin, a nephew, never return home. 

This is not a war zone/This is a war zone/We live in a war zone.
Our children grow up in a war zone, are taught to escape killers, guns
and madmen/Our children learn they won’t escape madmen with guns, 
that bullets meant for war pierce metal doors, tear off locks. 
Bullets ravage the faces and bodies of teachers and best friends, forever haunt 
survivors' dreams––nightmares of pooling blood and mangled flesh.

Our children promise to stay still and quiet/If only they stayed still enough, quiet enough. 

I did good Mommy, I stayed still, I stayed quiet.  


A lifelong New Englander, Laurie Rosen’s poetry has appeared in The Muddy River Poetry Review, Oddball Magazine, Zig-Zag Lit Mag, Peregrine, The New Verse News, Gyroscope Review, and elsewhere.