She greeted me on Monday, sans homework, but with an explanation: Her mother was killed on Saturday, could she turn it in tomorrow? Would that be okay?
On Tuesday morning he told me he wasn’t afraid of anything
That nothing scared him, hurt him, or could make him cry
He came and told me Wednesday, he discovered that fear was a gun held to his head. That he now knew; he was afraid of dead.
Her chair was empty Thursday, I didn’t know why until late
(Thank God she didn’t wait)
When her momma’s boyfriend blasted through the door, and momma fell (dead) to the floor,
she jumped out the window, baby sister in tow, and ran to safety of a neighbor she didn’t know.
Friday. Nothing bad ever happens on a Friday – I just pray they make it two days, and return on Monday, to the safety of my classroom.
