Del Rio Elementary

David Rutschman

With a sudden blazing clarity I saw that we were living wrong. Our bodies were made to roam the plains, I thought. But we have murdered and despoiled ...

I was eating lunch from a plastic molded tray. My parents were getting divorced. Kids shouted and laughed around me; chairs scraped. Sometimes this happens, my mom had said. It definitely wasn’t my fault.

Our elders are fearful and without wisdom, I whispered. I leaped to my feet and spoke louder: They tremble at shadows!

The tray clattered to the floor. Milk made a spreading puddle.

We were meant to hunt and gather in small bands! I told the room. All this pavement is poison to our souls!

Maybe I was shrieking. Maybe I swung my fists and wept. Teachers rushed toward me, concern on their faces.

I roared to the heavens as they closed in.


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