NEW ENGLAND WINTER DARKNESS

Still, night is not supposed to fall at 7:20 in
      the morning, even here.
A boy is not supposed to die as he begins
     his school day.
Kids sitting a floor below ought not
     to hear cries of anguish, nor
     should gravity collapse in a new time-
     zone, on an unknown continent, we once
     called B Building.

Trance-like, we walked down once familiar hallways.
Whoever sat next to you became your best friend,
     students...teachers, it didn't matter.
The seas within us began to rise.

Eons clipped by in seconds. Each hug
     recreated the gravitational field. Worlds
     began to cohere. The beautiful words
     of students threw stars back into
     our sky, a moon, a warming sun.
"I love L-S," I heard one say. Then two. Then three.

They understood the universe had changed, that
     a Friday in January now circled in
     permanent orbit, but they also knew

this was still their home, a Milky Way
     of luminous places, green as earth, or
     great-hearted and tender-souled as
     a school.

 

After the murder of a student
at Lincoln-Sudbury

January 25, 2007



All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
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