When the World Tilted Forward

It happened

just as the world tilted forward—

a pencil dropped,

a silence cracked,

then a sound

split everything open.

Not thunder.

Not war.

Just one shot

in a hallway built for learning.

As the desks grew teeth.

The windows turned witness.

The children

became soldiers,

scribbling prayers

on red-streaked floors.

We call it valor—

how one child

shields another.

How another

texts goodbye.

We bottle their courage

for public consumption,

called it inspiration,

called it rare—

but we know better.

This is the lesson now.

This is the tilt:

the quiet toppling

We feel

Each time a bullet

redraws the map

of childhood