My little Kevin starts the fourth grade today.
He likes school. Especially reading.
Like last year, I got the school supplies.
But the extra $129 maxed out my Visa.
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Across town Steve walks up to the gun counter at WalMart,
excited to hold that Glock once more.
Today’s the day he’s waited for,
to buy that beauty.
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Kevin’s going to be safe today, that’s my prayer.
I went over to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and
bought him a bulletproof backpack that doubles as a shield.
That’s all I can do, I guess.
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Steve has a lot on his mind, and a plan of attack.
Work is stressful, but his new pistol brings a smile.
Safety is king, so he drives home
and locks the gun in his safe.
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This poem I write does not have a proper end,
but to pause and note the tragedy of an armed America.
A boy going back to school with iPad and Kevlar.
A gun industry no one can touch. Or won’t.
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Steve has an unknown tomorrow.
He may collect, polish,
practice, sell,
wound, or kill.
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Kevin is a blessed boy.
He has a mother who prays, books to read,
a school nearby, and
a shield from gunfire.
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This is our country, land of the free,
home of the brave.
The Steves of America don’t know the Kevins.
And apparently that’s just the way it must be.
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–poem by Robert Edwin Rasmussen
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(based on an article in TIME magazine, Dec.16, 2019)
