On March 24th, 2018 I participated in the March For Our Lives in Boston, Massachusetts. I remember being there, holding up a sign I got from someone handing them out and feeling like I was out of place. I was surrounded by a sea of people, ranging from young to old, holding up their handmade signs. And even as I was walking among them on the streets and chanting back the words they were saying, I still didn't feel like I belonged there.
Maybe because my reasoning for doing it in the first place was selfish. I made a bucket list of things I wanted to do and experience and participating in a march was one of them. I felt ashamed that I would choose something like that now looking back because we shouldn't have to worry about organizing these marches all over the country in the first place.
Ever since the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting this past February, there has been plenty of debate on enforcing stricter gun control laws. Normally I'm not one for stating my opinions on something so controversial, but being apart of this march and movement has changed my mind. So, I wrote this poem to bring up the reasons why I marched and to say that enough is enough and we need to see a change before more people get hurt.
Enough Is Enough
Saturday, March 24th, 2018
Boston, Massachusetts
I stood in a crowd
with youths and elders
holding up their signs
and screaming back the words
that everyone could hear
who was willing to listen.
As we marched along
the familiar streets
my eyes welled up
not from the bitter cold
or the pain in my legs
but from the people
in front and back of me
who kept on marching
and the people on the sidelines
cheering us on.
It was in that moment
I knew we were a movement
who was going to change the system.
And because of that, I marched.
I marched for the ones
whose lives were cut too short
but are now smiling down from above
as they see their lives being remembered.
And a change being made.
I marched for the ones
whose words were silenced
and buried with them
six feet down in the dirt.
I marched for the ones
who fear walking into school.
A place that I remembered as being safe
is now considered a war zone.
I marched for the teachers
who instead of being armed with pencils
are told to arm themselves with guns instead.
I marched for the lives of people
who don't get talked about
on the news
or on the front page
of a newspaper.
I marched for the people
who aren't doing anything
to change the system.
Who would rather see more people die
then change a law.
I marched for the survivors
who ran for their lives
and did whatever they could
to not get shot.
I marched for the survivors
who are now changed forever
from what they witnessed
but yet still fight for a change.
I marched for the survivors
because they are the brave ones
who instead of hiding
came together
and brought this march to life
to fight against the man.
I marched for them all
and I would do it again
because as my legs became numb
and my hands turned red from the cold
from marching the two miles
I continued to move forward.
To the ones who have lost their lives
due to gun violence
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that nothing got done.
But we're not done fighting.
I have a dream
that enough is enough
and I will live to see it come true.
