A School This Time

The flags are at half-mast
again.
It was a school
this time.
Twenty-one
dead.
Mere days after the
grocery store gunman
killed ten.

Staying true to its orbit,
the vile, despicable question
has made its way
front of mind
again:

Which part is the most heart-breaking?

Is it the sheer theft of life
and number of bodies
headed early to the ground;

or perhaps it’s how in-stride
we take the news of
the latest shooting,
how immune we are
to stories like the one
about the little girl who
had to smear her still-warm,
murdered friend’s blood
on herself and play dead
for almost an hour
just to survive the day in class;

but no, it has to be the certainty
that something like this
or, God forbid,
something worse-
if such a thing could even exist-
is undoubtedly going to happen
again,
and probably soon,
because nothing ever changes.