It really was. I'm going to need some recovery on this one.

It's not the poem I began, one that was intended to be more about honoring the children and teachers. I have three pages in my journal of poetry notes on this. But, I kept coming back to that 77 minutes. I kept seeing those fathers or imagining my own husband outside that school, hearing those screams and gunshots and being forcibly prevented from doing anything to help by the police who CHOSE to do nothing.