Everyone is banging
on drums of different sizes
some with mallets
some with bare hands
some together, drumming
a slow vibration of peace,
some departing into
an explosion of snare solos

		The next day, an 18-year-old lonely dropout
		Shoots up Uvalde Elementary School in Texas.
		19 children, 2 teachers dead

A woman strikes a metal bowl
as if it is a wind chime
ricochets off a breeze
on a lonely lake
but we are not lonely
we are a new tribe.

		Box of ammo ordered online
		Black duffel bag
		2 assault rifles bought legally
		for his 18th birthday

The bell chimes again,
mist on the lake of my mind
our eyes remain closed
bongos, djembe, snare, tambourine
offer a sort of prayer

		Nicknamed “school shooter”
		Bullied for his speech impediment
		Cared for by his grandmother
		She was shot first in the face

Opening my eyes I see
a giant window, a wooden
cross in its center
the drumbeats are chanting
louder and louder
we are strangers,
but we play together
a new tribe.

		Worked the day shift at Wendy’s
		Long hair, goth garb, he cut up
		His face with knives, warned strangers
		Of his plans on social media, some
		In Germany, all far away. He shot
		More than 100 rounds in 4 minutes.
					

If only our drumbeats
could reach all the way
from Chicago to Texas, 
whisper in the ear
of Salvador Ramos, invite
him to join us in community.
	
		Uvalde High School graduates, wearing red robes,
		Visited the elementary school just one day before,
		High fiving the grade schoolers, wishing them well,
		welcoming them to the future, a new tribe.