We are driving home, broad daylight.
Our son is in the backseat telling us
How the grammar school had a lockdown drill.
He is talking about security and red alerts and danger
About bad people getting in and trying to hurt him
And about hiding and staying still so he does not get captured.
If you react at all, if your hand tightens on the wheel,
I do not notice.
I am too busy telling him how this is normal, just protocol,
Practice for something that could happen but will never happen,
Because that is what you do, what you say, and all I can think of.
Later you tell me what happened to you, while you drove,
While you listened to him, how you reached for them,
Your guns, your M4 and your M9
Even though, even though
You have been home for a year now.
It is you say, searching, for the best word to describe it,
And when you cannot find it, I say crazy, not because it is,
But because I do not want to say what it really is, this thing,