all clear

if (when) my school goes on lockdown, i want to be prepared

because today we had a false alarm

and all i could do was sit and stare at the door

with trembling fingers, i texted my mom

'we're on lockdown, no one knows if it's real or not'

my teacher, always cool and collected, locked the door tight

she propped a chair up on the handle and told us to get out of the line of fire

'so it's not a drill?' we asked, smiling nervously

because we've been taught since the age of six that we shouldn't scream 

in our kindergarten classrooms, we were shoved under desks

adults in the hallways pounded on our doors

we were scolded if we wept

today, no longer those inconsollible children, we watched our teacher check her screen

'this is not a drill'

the red lights flashed outside our class

a pretty sight, we later said

maybe we could appreciate it more if we weren't so shaky

pretty, even cool, in a terrifying-sort-of-way

we settled along the sides of the walls, taking deep breaths and unsettled laughs

lambs to the slaughter, waiting for our execution

it couldn't have been but a single minute till the office lady said

'all clear'

all us children began to relax, yet we sat waiting for a second savior

it took too long

one girl whispered about a hostage

it took too long

finally, finally, the principal spoke into the mic

'we are all clear'

and with that, our fear turned to annoyance

because isn't a drill sort of innapropriate to do without warning

the day after children died?

i told my mom we were ok

she said it wasn't right

she said it wasn't fair

but she was preaching to the choir, because i've known this since sixth grade

because i learned after parkland that nothing ever changes

because i learned after parkland that the children have to save themselves

and we are never really all clear.