Sandyhook The children are unsure Terrified, no clarity of moment A child’s fear, failure of surrounding spirit A child’s terror, that which is lore, and never comes to pass Until it does, but then, not to the child For they are children, urchin spirits running unbridled Across the playground of infinity, childhood never-ending Until it does, but that emancipation triumphs all, Clearly, precisely, devoutly holding a tiny broken heart Unskilled in the ways of the world, untrained, Unaware that atrocity is inevitable and shall not be denied Even by the love of all that is grace as it washes Over the peaceful children, each en-route to singular destiny Who shall know, that, which explains the evils of the world, as the levy For understanding this earth, its struggle, and all its glory. The Hack Poet 12/14/12