“Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba.”

Children run for cover, trampling each other in a desperate sprint for safety.
In the street an 8-year-old boy
lies
motionless as his savior on the cross,
wounds front and back.

His mother rushes to hold him,
somehow knows
where there’s no compassion,
compression can save lives.
Her hands cover his wounds
try to stanch the blood
hold the life within.

“I hear ba, ba, ba, ba, ba. I got to my baby, to hold him.”

Meanwhile, no one sees the shooters,
they scatter with their bullets,
blood drips onto a floor from the shin of a 10-year-old
who doesn’t even know she’s been shot

Family and friends
who gathered to celebrate a new life created
shift to pray
that no life be taken

9-1-1
a policeman’s CPR replaces a mother’s desparate hugs

The public threat no longer imminent,
a crowd of onlookers gathers
as an officer breathes life
back into the boy
as his god breathed life into Adam at the creation

Police tape
Crowd control
Nothin’ to see here, folks, go on home

In the ER, doctors work to save the child
as the mother,
now covered in blood,
and father,
now covered in blood,
can only weep and pray
to the same god
who somehow let this happen

Jesus, Mary and Joseph,
when will this end?

“We were trying to pick the kids up, get the kids out of the way … they were going to get crushed.”

“My baby! My baby!”

“The ones that were doing the shooting, none of them got shot.”

*Chicago Tribune headline and quotes, April 7, 2019