The shock and sadness die down

the angry fighting sets in

We begin the nasty debates

of should haves…

would haves…

and never beens

The parents swallow little pills

so they can get some rest

for tomorrow they’ll bury their babies

as they wear their Sunday best

Thinking of that last morning

sitting in the drop-off line

listening as their lovies exclaimed

“It’s almost over!

… I think I did just fine!”

“I got A-B honor roll!

The class party is soon!”

not knowing they’ll never gaze upon

another summer moon.

Argue all you want

over guns

and states of mind

but remember to pray for the parents

for the peace they’ll never find.